


I'm A Believer

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, But Very Tame By GOT Standards, Canon-Typical Ableism, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, No Incest, Shrek AU, True Love, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: “I have a brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, who is trapped in a tower in the westerlands. If you go and save him and bring him back to us, I’ll knight you. But not a moment before.”She wanted to tell Princess Cersei that she’d already done one impossible task — she’d won her first melee, which included the best knights in the realm, and surely she was the first woman to win a tournament — so couldn’t she just be a knight now?Instead Brienne of Tarth said, “I’ll do it.”A Shrek-inspired fairy tale AU





	1. I Thought Love Was Only True In Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

> this was going to be a short oneshot, but it's 22k words! so you're getting it in three parts over the next three days. 
> 
> this is more Shrek-inspired than a straight Shrek AU. The title (and chapter titles) are, of course, all lyrics from the Monkees hit "I'm A Believer," famously covered by Smash Mouth.
> 
> The setting is a Fairy Tale Westeros. Everything is a bit nicer than canon, and the Targaryens are still on the throne (minus the "madness"). 
> 
> also! if you wanna chat on tumblr, i'm teachitlikeyoupreachit.tumblr.com
> 
> let me know what ya think!

When Cersei and Jaime Lannister were born at Casterly Rock to the strong and proud Tywin Lannister and the beautiful and kind Joanna Lannister, all of the westerlands rejoiced. The twins had matching sets of green eyes and beautiful locks of golden hair. At their christening, the fairies of the westerlands came forward and blessed them, praying for them to have long lives and much happiness and eternal, true love.

And the children grew, bringing joy to the castle and everyone they met, including their parents, whose love for each other grew every day. The twins looked so much alike, they often switched places without anyone noticing, so Cersei could learn sword fighting and Jaime could learn how to sew. They were happy.

When their mother was with child again, Cersei and Jaime were in their eighth summer. They fought over whether they’d have a little brother or a little sister.

“She’ll be a girl, and she’ll be so perfect and pretty like me and mama and she’ll be my best friend,” Cersei said one day as they played on the beach.

“But I’m your best friend,” Jaime said, pouting. Cersei laughed. That was just like his sister, to say something so casually cruel and not care at all.

“Maybe it’ll be a boy,” he said instead, kicking around in the sand. “And he’ll be my best friend.”

Cersei shoved him into an incoming wave.

One day Jaime visited his mother in her chambers. He’d been trying to read a story, but he was getting tripped up on the words. His father was always cruel about his problems with reading, but his mother was always kind and would let him go over something again and again, until he got it right.

Joanna was propped up on a chaise with lots of pillows, her pregnant belly a huge mountain. In her hands, she embroidered a new blanket for the baby, delicately creating a lion cub with golden thread. For a moment, Jaime stood in the doorway and watched her, in awe of her deft and gentle hands. When Joanna noticed him, she beckoned her son over and he crawled next to her, his book pressed against his chest.

“Do you need help reading, Jaime?” she asked softly, running her fingers through his hair. She put the baby blanket aside. He nodded and opened to the story, about three knights who were best friends and got into all sorts of adventures. Jaime didn’t feel stupid when he read with his mom. He just felt loved.

“Jaime,” she whispered when they were done. “The baby’s kicking. Give me your hand.”

He reached out and his mom helped him find it and — right there. The baby kicked underneath his finger tips. It was the strangest feeling, and the most wonderful. He imagined his baby sibling’s little feet and little hands and little face.

Jaime looked up at his mom and smiled.

“You’ll be a big brother soon,” she said, running her hand through his hair again. “You’ll have to protect them — your sister and the new baby. Can you do that? Can you promise me?”

He thought of the knights in his favorite stories and all the things they did to protect the people they loved. He thought about his sister, and the new baby, and his mom, and he felt all warm and fuzzy inside his chest. For the rest of his life, he would never forget this moment, for better or worse.

“I promise.”

The twins didn’t know when it all went wrong — they were asleep when their baby brother was born and their mother died. 

Tyrion.

Jaime loved Tyrion right away. It’s what their mom would’ve wanted, he knew. He’d promised to take care of all of them, and he’d never forget it.

“He’s a baby, it’s not his fault,” he told his sister as he cradled his baby brother, trying to get him to stop crying. It was so hard and he wasn’t any good at it and he wanted to cry too, but he knew he couldn’t.

“He’s ugly,” Cersei said, refusing to look at either of them. “He’s a monster. I hate him.”

Jaime tried to get his father to talk some sense into her, but Tywin wouldn’t even look at his newborn son. In his silence, Cersei heard approval.

Despite everything, they still had a christening for the baby, though later than they ought to. Tyrion was almost one. Jaime spent most of the celebration trying to keep the baby from crawling away and ruining his little white gown before the fairies could give their blessings. He looked so cute in his tiny hat, and Jaime knew his mom would’ve agreed.

Cersei had other plans. She approached one of the fairies, a terrifyingly beautiful one with purple eyes and silver hair whose magic felt like fire and smoke and danger.

“Daenerys?” Cersei asked with her sweetest, kindest, most innocent voice. “You blessed me and my brother Jaime at our christening?”

Daenerys looked down at her with her something terrifying in her eyes. Cersei refused to look away. She bowed to no one.

“Yes, child,” the fairy said.

“So that means we’re connected, right?” Daenerys glared at her, trying to figure out where the little girl was going with this. She gave a small nod.

“In a way.”

“And you’re going to bless the new baby, too?”

“Yes, child,” she said, all patience gone. “Now tell me what you really want to know.”

Cersei should have sensed the anger in her tone, crackling under the surface, a threat and a warning, but Cersei was never as smart as she thought she was.

“I don’t want you to bless him,” she said instead. “I want you to curse him. Or get rid of him. Or lock him in a tower. Or turn back time so he’d never be born. Or —“

“Enough,” Daenerys yelled, and this time not even Cersei could miss how livid she was. The whole party fell quiet.

“Cersei Lannister, how dare you try to tell me what to do. How dare you ask me to hurt an innocent child.”

Jaime had been running across the room with Tyrion is his arms, trying to help his sister, but he stopped when he heard that. He knew Cersei didn’t like the baby, but he never thought she’d really try to hurt him. As if he knew what was happening, Tyrion started to cry. Jaime held him tighter, torn between his two siblings, for neither the first time nor the last time.

“I curse you, Cersei Lannister,” Daenerys said, and it almost looked like her silver robes had turned into flames. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she chanted in a deep voice.

“Golden hair and eyes of green, lock the Lannister away, never to be seen. Far away and high above, saved only by their one true love.”

A flash of flame. Gasps. Cersei was gone. Tyrion was still crying.

—

At first, Tywin was furious. He lost one good child — not Jaime, at least, but she could have made a good match and helped secure the family’s position. But then his advisor Petyr Baelish helped him see this was maybe a good thing.

“Beautiful girls from rich families are a dime a dozen,” he said. “But heroic quests? That’s special. The best knights in the kingdom will try to save her. They’ll be legends.”

And, after mulling it over, Tywin Lannister found that he liked the sound of that.

Jaime did not. He wrote his sister a letter every day, despite how difficult it was for him with his bad reading and terrible handwriting. He told her how sorry he was, how he was going to come rescue her, how much he missed her, how he was going to figure it all out. He would train to be a knight and then come and get her so they could be a family again.

She wrote to him occasionally, about the things she did to occupy her time at the top of the tower. She spent a lot of time brushing her hair and gazing in the mirror, it seemed. Already some knights had tried to save her, but they were old and ugly so she didn’t feel so bad when they failed. There were lots of books and, while she didn’t love reading, some weren’t so bad.

She always asked after their father. She never mentioned Tyrion. Jaime would read him the letters and pretend that Cersei had written long paragraphs about how much she loved and missed him. He never told Tyrion why she was locked away, what transgression had sparked Daenerys’ wrath. And he wrote to Cersei at length about their little brother, hoping to awaken some affection in her for their younger sibling. It didn’t work, but he never gave up hope that one day it would.

The one thing Cersei was clear about in all her letters was that she didn’t want Jaime to try to come for her. 

“She said ‘true love,’ Jaime,” she wrote. “I don’t think my brother can be my true love.”

But what was truer than the love he had for his family? How could that not be enough? They fought about it in every letter they wrote.

Otherwise, Jaime worked on training to be a knight. When the greatest fighters in the realm — Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Barristan Selmy — came to visit his father, Jaime would follow them around like a second shadow, copying everything from the way they held their swords to the way they wiped sweat from their brows. He spent hours every day sparring with the other boys, even beating some of the older ones. On Tyrion’s fourth nameday, he gave his brother his first sword, a little wooden one, and he spent hours every night trying to get Tyrion to play knights with him. Tyrion wasn’t as interested in fighting as Jaime was, though, and their evenings often ended with Tyrion picking out a favorite book. It reminded Jaime of his mom, and it made him feel happy and sad to think about how much she would’ve loved Tyrion, too.

Sometimes they sent Cersei gifts, things Jaime thought she might like. He’d send her candies and hair pins and blankets he bought at the market. 

When they turned 14, she asked him to send any books he could find about magic. There weren’t many in the libraries at Casterly Rock, but he sent them all. He hoped they were useful for whatever she had in mind. He hoped it wasn’t too dangerous.

On his 15th nameday, his father held a tournament in his — and Cersei’s — honor, bringing together all the noble houses in the kingdom. The secret purpose was for Tywin to sound out the young men, to see which ones he might encourage to try to save Cersei from the tower. He really had his eyes on Prince Rhaegar, but he wanted to keep the options open.

Jaime knew this was his chance. He trained for the tournament with everything he had. 

He finished second in the tilting but he ran right through the melee, demolishing the competition. After he crowned his Aunt Genna the queen of love and beauty, King Aerys made his wildest dreams come true.

_ In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Jaime Lannister, a knight of the seven kingdoms. _

Jaime wrote to Cersei that evening, after the feast. “I’m a knight now. I can do it. Say the word and I’ll come save you.”

He waited for her response, for her to tell him not to try, to say that  _ Rhaegar Targaryen _ was coming instead. He was stunned when he received her response.

“Come at once. Help me. Save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. Come at once.”

Tyrion snatched the letter from his hand. “Don’t go,” he begged. Jaime took it back.

“She’s our sister,” he said. “I have to go save her.”

“I know why she’s locked in there,” Tyrion said, his voice breaking. “You never told me but I know. And I know she never writes about me. I know you made that up. I know she hates me.”

Jaime frowned. He’d tried to protect Tyrion from all these things, and he’d failed miserably. He took his brother in his arms.

“It’s complicated. She was just so sad about losing mother...”

“Don’t leave me,” Tyrion said. “She isn’t worth it. She isn’t good like you.”

“She could be,” Jaime said, knowing he didn’t even really believe himself. But this was his job — to protect them. He had to give her a chance.

“Then take me with you,” he tried. “Don’t leave me with father.  _ Please. _ ” Tears streamed down his little brother’s face. 

“You’re too young, Tyrion. I can’t. It’ll be OK. I’ll come back with Cersei and we’ll be a happy family.”

They fell asleep in the same bed that night, Tyrion softly weeping in Jaime’s arms. He knew what his brother didn’t.

Jaime snuck out before dawn, bringing his horses, Honor and Glory, with him. 

Riding at a punishing pace, he made it to the tower within a week. It was his first time being so far from home by himself and he was tired and hungry and a little sad, but he knew it would be worth it to see his sister again. 

Outside the entrance of the tower laid an enormous, terrifying dragon. Its black scales glistened in the sun, beautiful and hideous all at once. Jaime tied up his horses at a safe distance, then gripped his sword. He could slay a dragon. For love. For Cersei. For his mom.

His hand trembled as he approached. He waited for the moment the dragon would turn on him, would charge at him, or sleepily decimate him with a small stream of fire from its massive mouth.

But the dragon didn’t move. It slept. He crept closer. Still, it didn’t move, except for the rise and fall of its chest as it breathed in and out.

He was shocked. Surely it couldn’t be this easy? But the dragon was asleep. He shakily walked to the door of the tower. Slowly, he stretched his hand and grasped the door knob. A flash of green light lit the door and it opened. 

Until that moment, he hadn’t really believed he could save Cersei. But he could. He was doing it.

He slipped inside and bolted up the stairs as fast as he could, his armor dragging him down. He was covered in sweat by the time he burst into the room at the top of the tower, gasping for air.

“Jaime!”

He looked around the room and found his sister sitting at the window, brushing her hair. 

“Cersei.”

She looked so different. It had been seven years — half their lives. She was almost a woman now. She was taller — but not as tall as him. They’d never be able to pretend to be each other now. But their hair was still the same golden hue, their eyes the same piercing green.

She hugged him and he realized they were both crying.

“I knew you’d come,” she whispered, and he felt, for a second, like they were both kids again, like their mom was going to walk into the room and everything would be OK.

“Let’s go,” he said. “Right now. Do you have things you want to take, I have two —”

Cersei pulled away from him and went to where she had a bag packed. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what.

“You thought I couldn’t do it,” he said smugly. “The dragon didn’t even wake up. That’s how right this is.”

She turned to him, frowning. He was missing something.

“You couldn’t do it, Jaime,” she said, and she only sounded half sad about it. 

“But I did it,” he said, thunderstruck. “I’m doing it. We can leave.”

Cersei gestured toward her chair and he sat. He really  _ was _ so tired. He poured himself a glass of water and drank while she finished putting things in her bag.

“Do you remember what the fairy said? When she cursed me?” Of course he did.

“Golden hair and eyes of green, lock the Lannister girl away, never to be seen —”

“She didn’t say girl.”

He got it then, but he suddenly couldn’t form words.

“That’s why I needed those magic books. I was trying to find a loophole. I couldn’t just sit here and  _ wait for my true love _ anymore.”

“You can’t —” he started, but he was so tired all of a sudden. He looked down at his glass. Was it water?

“I’ll send someone for you, I promise,” she said, and then she was out the door. It slammed shut behind her. He tried to follow, but the door wouldn’t open beneath his hand. She’d done it. She was free.

He only found out she’d made it home when Tyrion sent him a raven. One line, three words

“You absolute idiot.”

—

Brienne of Tarth wanted to be a knight for her whole life. OK, maybe there was a time when she didn’t know what knights were so she didn’t want to be one then, but she couldn’t  _ remember _ a time when she didn’t want to be a knight.

Her septa had tried to keep her from it, but she’d run away from the nasty old woman and got into hijinks with the boys at the armory instead. When they refused to arm her, she made her own wooden sword out of a very large tree branch instead. She was an unstoppable force. 

When her septa complained to her father that Brienne didn’t take her lessons seriously and was always  _ fighting _ , he said, “Great!” He didn’t understand the ways of young ladies, but fighting he understood. He dismissed the septa and let Brienne train and wear breeches whenever she wanted. And she was so happy to have won that war, she never told him about the cruel things the other kids — and some of the adults — said to her. This was what she wanted — all of it, even the bad parts. 

“It might not be good for her,” Selwyn’s mistress whispered to him on Brienne’s eighth nameday. “They’ll never let her be a knight. They’ll never accept her as a maiden  _ or _ a warrior.” Brienne had received her first real sword for her birthday. She fell asleep with her arms wrapped around the sheath and Selwyn had to slip it out of her hands, lest she injure herself in her slumber.

“If they ever let any woman be a knight, it’ll be my Brienne,” he said. He had a new mistress by Brienne’s ninth nameday.

The summer after Brienne turned 18, word made it to Tarth of a tournament in King’s Landing, in honor of Prince Rhaegar’s fifth wedding anniversary to Princess Cersei. The story went that he had saved her from the tower where an evil witch had imprisoned her, leaving a dragon as a sentinel outside. He sang a lullaby so sweet, the dragon fell asleep, letting him and his true love escape unscathed. They wed weeks later and Princess Cersei had been the most beautiful bride. 

The only casualty of their happiness had been the princess’ brother, who had helped the prince save her. Somehow, he’d gotten stuck in the tower instead. It was said he was as beautiful as she was, and that the magic had gotten confused and snatched him up. Others said that he’d turned into the dragon, or what the dragon had eaten him. Still others said he wasn’t in the tower at all — that he’d gone exploring and would come home with secret treasure. 

Brienne didn’t care about fairytales. 

More importantly for our fair maiden, rumor had it that the winner of the prince and princess’ tournament could get whatever he wanted from the royal family. Brienne knew this was her best chance to make her dreams come true. 

She bade her father farewell, promising to return as  _ Ser _ Brienne of Tarth, no matter what it took. 

“Just try to be happy, starling,” he said. “Promise me that.”

“I promise.”

Once she reached King’s Landing, she did her best to blend into the masses. Most people didn’t look at her twice, assuming she was a man. She happily let them. She was single-minded in her pursuit of greatness, skipping out on the inns and taverns and celebrations that popped up around them, lest a hangover keep her off the tourney field. 

Instead, she drank in all the city had to offer with her eyes. She’d never seen so many people, heard so many songs, ogled so many beautiful gowns. For a moment, she imagined herself as one of the women in the stunning dresses, a blue one that cascaded down her back and made her look regal and glorious, instead of awkward and hideous, the way every gown she’d ever owned made her look. She wondered, idly, if she could find a seamstress who could create such a dress for her, but she didn’t have the money or the time.  _ And what occasion would you even have to wear it? _ her inner voice — which sounded a lot like her old septa — asked.  _ It’s not like some lord will ever want to marry you. _

Brienne knew better than to dwell on dreams that could never come true. Dreams where somebody loved her and wanted her and cherished her. Those things were possible for other women, for the beautiful, tiny women who blushed prettily and had soft voices and gentle touches. She kept those dreams for the middle of the night. They could never be real.

So Brienne focused the dreams that could come true. She practiced for the tournament. She would compete in the melee. She was announced as simply “The Blue Knight,” named so for her blue armor, a gift from her father on her last nameday. 

She didn’t listen as the other fighters were announced. She didn’t want to know who they were, because it would only intimidate her to think of all their great deeds. She was going to be a knight. She was going to have great deeds. This was going to be the first one.

And it was. She tore her way through the melee, slowly winning the crowd to her side as she went through her foes. 

In the end, it was her and Ser Loras Tyrell, which she only found out after it was over. She never fought so hard in her life, but she knew she was going to win. 

When the melee ended, the crowd roared for her. Well, for the Blue Knight.

“Take off your helm, so we may see your face,” Prince Rhaegar said. She took a deep breath. It was now or never. In one clean move, she was revealed.

The crowd gasped. She tried to block them out, like she had in the heat of battle, but she couldn’t.

“Who is that?”

“Is that a woman?”

“So ugly —”

“Crooked nose —”

“Dirty who —”

“Enough!” Prince Rhaegar yelled over the crowd. “What is your name, milady?”

“Brienne of Tarth, your grace.” She bowed low and looked up at him and the princess. They were both so beautiful, practically shimmering in the afternoon sun. 

“Congratulations on your victory, Lady Brienne of Tarth,” the princess said, something ice cold in her voice. Brienne tried not to grimace.

“What do you wish for, Lady Brienne?” Prince Rhaegar asked. His voice was so sweet and smooth, she almost wanted to ask him to sing a song about her. But she couldn’t get distracted. If she succeeded, they would write songs about her anyway.

“I wish to be made a knight,” she said in her most serious voice, the way she’d practiced whenever she was alone during her travels. She was glad she had: Her voice didn’t shake.

The crowd laughed. Princess Cersei laughed. Prince Rhaegar laughed. 

“A woman knight?” he said. “You ask for much, Lady Brienne.”

“What makes you worthy of being a knight?” Princess Cersei asked. “Do you have any great feats to your name?”

Brienne gestured helplessly behind her, where the melee has just been fought.

“I mean, I won?” More laughs.

She looked up, slowly losing her cool, and prayed she wouldn’t start to cry. She’d so thought this was going to work. Princess Cersei was talking to a small man — her younger brother, if she remembered the gossip she’d heard. For years and years later, Tyrion would tell Jaime and Brienne that they owed everything to him and this moment, and Brienne didn’t really disagree (Jaime said that the whole point of  _ true love _ is that they would’ve found each other anyway).

The princess looked annoyed, but then she whispered into her husband’s ear. The prince seemed perturbed, but nodded anyway. He ceded the floor to his bride.

“I have a brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, who is trapped in a tower in the westerlands. If you go and save him and bring him back to us, I’ll knight you. But not a moment before.”

She wanted to tell them that she’d already done one impossible task — she’d won her first melee, which included the best knights in the realm, and surely she was the first woman to win a tournament — so couldn’t she just be a knight  _ now _ ? 

Instead she said, “I’ll do it.”

—

Jaime’s days were very regimented. He woke at sunrise. He quickly dressed and worked on his exercises. He’d fashioned a dummy to practice sword-fighting with, which was pretty useless, but it made him feel better, kind of. He ran laps around the room. He did all sorts of stretches and lifted the heaviest books to try to keep his arms strong.

Then he bathed. Then he broke his fast. Next, he polished his armor and his sword. The armor didn’t even really fit anymore — he’d grown in the last five years — but it was all he had. If he stopped shining it, he was admitting defeat.

Then he’d write letters, to Tyrion or Cersei or his father. 

Tyrion had forgiven him for leaving him, mostly. And it seemed they were all getting along now, according to his youngest brother. Or better, at least. Cersei was happy being Rhaegar’s princess.

It turned out Rhaegar had been on the way to save Cersei when Jaime had gotten there first. Jaime consoled himself thinking that maybe the prince  _ wasn’t _ Cersei’s true love and maybe he wouldn’t have been able to save her and maybe the dragon would’ve killed him and then Cersei would still be trapped and they wouldn’t have a prince so  _ really _ Jaime was a hero. Even if no one knew because Cersei and Rhaegar thought it would be simpler to say the prince had done the saving and that Jaime had just been a helpful sidekick. Jaime wasn’t bitter about it. He wasn’t. 

And Cersei swore she was working on sending someone for him. It was just  _ difficult. _ Lords didn’t want to bring their daughters to a tower in the middle of nowhere to check if he was their one true love, especially when that tower was guarded by a dragon (Jaime had once misspelled the word “dragon” in a letter to his brother, so now they both affectionately called him — assuming it was a him — Drogon). 

After writing letters, which took him a long time, he ate a light lunch. Then he worked on his sewing. He’d recently finished embroidering a handkerchief for his Tyrion, in which he’d tried to capture Drogon’s likeness. It wasn’t very good, but Tyrion has always been obsessed with the beasts, so hopefully it was the thought that counted. 

Tyrion had wanted to come visit him, just to see Drogon, but his father had forbade it. Tywin Lannister focused solely on the future. And right now, his heir didn’t have a part in that. 

Currently, Jaime was embroidering sunbursts and crescent moons into a blue handkerchief. He didn’t know why — it just felt right. And it was nice to mix things up. 

After sewing, usually he would try to read, which was a struggle, and he’d worked his way through most of the books at their point anyway. Then he’d clean up whatever mess he made that day — very little, truly — and eat dinner and try to fall asleep. This was the worst part of his day. He was so bored. 

It hadn’t always been like this. The first year Jaime was trapped here, he was determined to save himself. He spent a month trying to beat down the door. He spent the next month trying to use his armor to break a hole in the wall (he tried with his sword for a day, but was afraid the bricks would wreck it). In desperation, he even once jumped out of the window, but instead of hitting the ground, he ended up back on the bed, every time (It was a really soft bed, at least). 

In that first year, the tower still got the occasional knightly visitor who didn’t know Cersei had already been rescued. Drogon would let out a little squirt of fire and whoever it was would run for the hills. No maiden was worth getting set on fire for, it seemed. But it did give Jaime an idea. 

Maybe, if he dropped something out of the window, he could trick Drogon into setting the tower on fire. And then it would collapse and he would be free. Sure — he  _ might _ get set on fire, too, but he’d rather be on fire and  _ free _ than not on fire and trapped.

After a month of dropping things out of the window without Drogon throwing up a single spark, he admitted it was hopeless. 

His only remaining hope was to read the magic books that Cersei had asked for. They were dense and thick and used all sorts of words he’d never heard before. It was a slog.

But all he really learned was that true love magic was finicky and confusing and very, very powerful, and he was left with was an overwhelming sense of dread. If Cersei had played with magic  _ that strong _ , he might just be doomed to live here forever with nothing to do but play with his sword.

That’s when he’d come up with his routine. He needed regimented actions to keep his day occupied or he’d lose his mind. Otherwise, he’d sit around all the time thinking about how  _ doomed _ he was.

This way, he only thought about it in bed. How he’d never go swimming again. How he’d never have another sword fight. How he’d never live up to his vows as a knight. Protect the innocent? He couldn’t even save himself.

Every day was like that, until he finally heard a knock on the door.

—

Princess Cersei and Prince Rhaegar gave Brienne two horses — Honor and Glory — to complete her quest. They also gave her two tents and two bed rolls and food for at least four people. She had the armor her father had commissioned her as a birthday gift. It wasn’t particularly beautiful and it could have fit better and it had gotten a little dented during the melee, but it was hers. Her sword had belonged to her great grandfather. It wasn’t ornate, but it was a fine sword that got the job done.

The only one who came to bid her farewell was the princess’ brother, Tyrion. 

“Lady Brienne,” he said with a little bow. “I see they gave you my brother’s horses.” 

She hadn’t known that. She stroked Honor’s coat, thoughtfully.

“I’ll take good care of them, Lord Tyrion,” she said.

“I hope you’re successful. I miss my brother dearly.”

“As does your whole family, I’m sure, my lord,” she replied, with a little bow. Tyrion made a face at her comment, but she didn’t question it.

“If you see Jaime but can’t get him out of the tower…” he said, his voice trailing off. “Tell him I miss him. Please.” She nodded solemnly.

Brienne of Tarth spent the whole ride west worrying about the dragon. Prince Rhaegar had sung it to sleep. She didn’t have the voice to do something like that. Her voice was low and rough — she’d stopped singing a long time ago. She could charge at it, sword sticking out, hoping to slay it, but unless something distracted it, she’s be burnt to a crisp in a second. She could use Glory, maybe, but then she might kill the horse. Also, she wasn’t sure Honor and Glory would listen to her, especially when facing a dragon.

Maybe she could sneak up behind it or…

About halfway there, she found herself facing the question she hadn’t wanted to consider: Was she willing to die trying to save the princess’ brother? She didn’t even know him. Yet, if she turned home without Ser Jaime, they would  _ never _ knight her, that she knew. But wasn’t it better to be alive and not a knight? Why was she even trusting Princess Cersei anyway? They’d set up a tournament and said the victor could have whatever they wanted. And when she’d asked for it, they’d set up more challenges for her. Maybe if she returned with Ser Jaime, they’d give her yet another quest.

And it was such a little thing she asked for, knighthood. She took it deathly serious, sure, but most of the men it was bestowed upon did not. Ser Jaime had been knighted at 15. He’d won a tournament. No one had told him that wasn’t enough. No one demanded he do anything to deserve it except be a man who could swing a sword around. 

She disliked them, she realized. Princess Cersei and Prince Rhaegar. She hoped Ser Jaime wouldn’t be like them, all pompous and rude. But that was his twin sister and, probably, his friend, so surely he was just as obnoxious and annoying as they were.

She knew she was close to the tower because she heard the dragon. Honor and Glory both shook and she did her best to calm them. If she had thought she was going to be able to charge at it, she knew now that was impossible — the horses would never get close enough.

Brienne approached the tower around dusk. She set up her camp on a hill overlooking the structure — and the dragon.

The tower was what she expected. Tall and narrow, with one window at the top. She thought she could see candles burning inside. Could Ser Jaime see her campfire? Did he even look for someone to come anymore? Five years was a long time to wait.

The dragon seemed to glow in the moonlight. She thought it would be thrashing about wildly, a terrifying and awesome spectacle of fire and smoke. 

Instead, it looked like it was sleeping. It reminded Brienne, strangely, of a cat.

She was reasonably certain the dragon wouldn’t try to attack her unless she got close, but she still slept poorly anyway. What if she couldn’t get into the tower? What if the dragon killed her on sight? What if Ser Jaime wouldn’t come with her?

She thought of her father, safe at home in his bed, waiting for her to come home a hero. She’d promised him she would. Failure wasn’t an option.

At dawn, she packed away her things. She made sure Honor and Glory were tied securely, lest she save Ser Jaime but lose their transportation. She fed them and gave them water, in case this was going to take a while. 

Having run out of distractions, she was left with the task before her: Get past the dragon. Climb the tower. Grab the knight. Get past the dragon a second time. Head back. 

She clutched the hilt of her sword, trying to ground herself as she walked toward the dragon. It was still asleep, thank the Gods. Maybe she could just sneak around it…

She approached it as quietly as possible, taking one slow step at a time. The only sound was the dragon’s loud snore. 

_ I can do this, _ she thought.  _ I can do this. I will do this. _

Then the dragon woke up with a little roar. It was ridiculous to think of a roar as  _ little _ , but it was. Again, she was reminded of a cat. It blinked its wide eyes open and she wondered if she might be able to blind it and sneak past it then. It still hadn’t seen her, at least.

And then it turned its head and looked right at her.

_ What a terrible way to die, _ she thought. Her heart was beating out of her chest.

This was the part she could hardly believe, even though she had lived it. The dragon  _ smiled _ at her and went back to sleep.

Her heart beat even faster; it felt like it was rattling around her rib cage. Was this a trick? Was it just lulling her into a false sense of security so she’d come closer so it could kill her then?

_ You’re missing your chance,  _ a voice that sounded like her father said. She ran for the door. It glowed green underneath her hand, but she didn’t even notice as she pushed it open and ran inside. Halfway up the stairs, she removed her helm. She paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from her face and to catch her breath. Then she kept climbing.

At the top was a door. Should she open it? That seemed rude. She ought to knock. But what would she say when he answered? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She never really considered what she’d do once she got past the dragon.

She could hear him moving around the room. She knocked. The noise ceased, but she didn’t hear him approach the door. After another long minute, she knocked again. Now she could hear his steps approaching the door. She heard him touch the door knob.

And then it opened.

The first thing she noticed was how stupidly handsome he was. He was tall — almost as tall as her — and he had two sparkling green eyes. His perfect jaw had just the lightest bit of stubble, which only seemed to emphasize how sharp and commanding it was. His hair was only a little shorter than hers, almost reaching his shoulders, and its golden hue seemed to catch all the light coming in through the window. 

This was wrong. She was in the wrong story, somehow. Women like Brienne didn’t meet men like Jaime, and they definitely didn’t save them from faraway towers. Why had the sheer ridiculousness of this not dawned on her until she looked in his stupid, beautiful eyeballs?

He opened his perfect, lush lips and said, “Are you a  _ woman _ ?”

“What?” Had he really just....

“What are you doing here?” he said. He put his hands on his hips.

“I came to rescue you,” she said, like he was an idiot. “What else would I be doing?”

He blinked at her. He was looking at her like — well he didn’t know what he was looking at her like. No one had ever looked at her like that.

“Did you do this because you’re desperate?” he asked.

“Desperate?” She was, really, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. This was the only way to get what she wanted.

“For a husband,” he said

And then she laughed. 

“You think I want to  _ marry you _ ?” she said, between bursts of laughter. “Oh no. Never.” This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because his face was all red and he was pouting.

“Why’s that funny?” he said, annoyed. “I’d be a great husband. I’m rich and handsome. And a knight.”

“And very humble,” she said, still laughing. “And great hospitality, which is why you’ve invited me in.” He grew even more red at that, but stepped aside to let her enter his small room.

“I still don’t understand why it’s so funny.”

She sat down on his chair, finally calming down.

“Because I’m not going to marry anyone. Let alone some pretty boy knight who can’t even save himself from a tower.”

“It’s a magic tower! I couldn’t just leave! Do you —” He was sputtering now. “Then why are you here, you, you — giant!?” Not his finest insult.

Now she was mad. He noticed for the first time how lovely her eyes were, lit with anger and determination.

“My name is Brienne of Tarth. And I came here to save your ungrateful hide because your sister and the prince said if I brought you back to King’s Landing they’d make me a knight. That’s the only thing I want — not some useless spouse who’ll hold me back and tie me down.”

That shocked him. 

“My sister sent you?” She nodded. He looked her up and down, taking in her armor, her height, her girth. “She must have loved you. A lady knight.”

Brienne quirked one eyebrow. 

“She always wanted to be a knight,” he explained, running a hand through his hair. Why did this woman unsettle him like this? He must be out of practice, not used to talking to people. 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your sister?” she asked, skeptical. He grimaced.

“Five years,” he admitted. “And we weren’t together very long.”

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“I guess we should go before the dragon wakes up?” Brienne asked. 

“Drogon’s asleep?” He ran to the window and looked out. He was. It was late in the morning for the dragon to still be slumbering. He remembered his abortive attempt at saving Cersei, the only other time he’d seen the dragon sleep during the day. He tried not to focus on what that meant.

“Drogon?” Brienne repeated, dumbly. “It has a name?”

“Not its real name,” he said. “My brother and I named him — it’s a long story. Probably the scary fairy gave him a real name.” 

“I met Lord Tyrion,” she said, ignoring all the things he said that she hasn’t understood. He turned from the window to look at her again, and she looked away from him. Her voice was soft — much softer than the voice of someone so big should be. “He wanted me to tell you he misses you. In case I couldn’t bring you back.”

He nodded, blinking back the sudden stinging in his eyes. He was going to see his brother again. Wow.

“Did my sister give you a message, too?”

She grimaced for a second, then caught herself. His heart sank.

“I — I left King’s Landing very quickly, perhaps she —”

“Let me just pack some things so Tyrion can tell me how much he missed me himself,” he said, going to the wardrobe and pulling out a large bag. More people didn’t need to lie for Cersei. He started throwing things into it — some of the nicer letters Tyrion had written him, his craft projects, a favorite book. Enough clothing for the journey back.

“How did you get all this stuff if you’re trapped up here?” she asked, eyeing the leftover breakfast on the table.

“We sent my sister some things when she was trapped. But everything else just shows up. Food three times a day, you know. Help yourself to that, if you want,” he said, inclining his head toward the table. “If I think, ‘I wish I had red thread to finish this flower,’ when I wake up in the morning there’s more red thread.”

“Thread?” she asked, with — was that a laugh in her voice? “You sew?” He didn’t like being made into a joke. 

“There’s not a lot to do up here,” he said, trying and failing to hold in his annoyance.

“No, I’m impressed,” she said. “My stitches are terrible.”

He turned to face her again and she still found she had a hard time looking him in the eye. He saw too much.

“I’m not surprised. You don’t look like you’d excel at any womanly arts.” Now  _ she  _ was mad again.

“If you’re done packing your  _ sewing kit _ , put on your armor so we can go.” His shoulders fell.

“It doesn’t fit anymore,” he mumbled. Instead, he put on his sword belt and pulled his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

He opened the door and let her go first. He turned back to look once more at the room, the only room he’d been in for five years. He was finally leaving — and all thanks to Brienne of Tarth. Did that mean… He’d worry about it later.

He had to hurry to catch up to her, and, even then, he only met her at the bottom of the tower. Gods, she had long legs. 

She unsheathed her sword. Now she was staring at him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Take out your sword.”

“Why?”

“There’s a  _ dragon _ outside.” He laughed.

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.” He pushed ahead of her and opened the door. She followed after him, muttering to herself about  _ pig-headed knights _ .

But he was right. Drogon was still napping. After they tip-toed around him and were a safe distance away, he turned and gestured:  _ See? _ She rolled her eyes.

At that exact moment, Drogon awoke. They both took steps back as the dragon opened his eyes and gazed down at them. He unfurled his massive wings.

“Still confident it won’t be a problem?” Brienne said, and Jaime elbowed her in the ribs. But she was wearing armor, so he only hurt himself.

The dragon reached forward with his long neck, so that his head was right in front of Jaime’s. He blinked at them, waiting for something. Brienne couldn’t believe he still hadn’t attacked.

Jaime thought he knew was the dragon wanted. Slowly, he reached out with his right hand. Brienne put a hand on his arm, trying to stop him, but he shook it off. This felt right. He rested his hand on the tip of Drogon’s snout and pet him once, twice. The dragon pulled back and roared, a huge loud, terrifying thing. They both fell to the ground in his wake.

Then Drogon pushed off the ground, flapping his enormous wings, and flew away.

“Holy shit,” Jaime said. 

“Wow,” Brienne echoed. They sat there for a long moment. Finally, she rose and offered him a hand up. He didn’t take it. With a sigh, she walked off toward the horses. He followed after her. 

“Wait, is that…”

“Yes,” she said, but she wasn’t even sure he heard. He ran ahead of her to embrace his horses. For a moment, she stopped to watch him. He looked like a little boy, rubbing their manes and shiny coats. The horses remembered him, somehow. It was sweet, she thought. Then she tried to push that thought down.

“Wow,” he said, as she approached. “I can’t believe it.” He pulled himself on to Honor and she followed with Glory.

“Can’t believe what?” He looked at her with a real, genuine smile. He was almost too beautiful to look at.

“I’m free.”


	2. Love Was Out To Get Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for kudos-ing and commenting! it always warms my little heart.
> 
> also, if you're like "Wait, don't you have a WIP?" I do! and I promise to go back to it. just needed to get this out of my system first.

Jaime had very rarely allowed himself to imagine getting rescued, because it felt completely impossible. His _ true love _, some fair maiden, coming to find him at the top of the tower. But the very few times he did let himself imagine some girl — some woman — knocking on his door, she didn’t look like … this. 

He kept sneaking peeks at her as their horses rode side by side. He thought she kept trying to pull ahead, but Honor wouldn’t allow it. He’d have to get him extra carrots as a thank you.

Brienne of Tarth was huge. Enormous. Commanding. She reminded him of Drogon, strangely. She was otherworldly. Fearsome and awe-inspiring and he wanted to watch her every day for the next five years until he understood all her secrets. 

But Brienne of Tarth had no interest in him at all.

“How come you don’t ride side saddle?” he asked after a few hours, trying to goad her into conversation by being as annoying as possible. “If you’re such a proper lady.”

“I never said I was a proper lady,” she said with a little scoff. “And riding side saddle was invented by men to control women’s bodies. If I rode side saddle to come get you, you’d be locked in that stupid tower for another month.”

He knew she was right, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Maybe you’re just not dainty enough to do it. You lack the necessary feminine wiles.”

“Riding side saddle is _ harder _ than riding normal, you know that, right?”

“Maybe you’re not _ really _ a woman —”

She pulled Glory up short. Jaime stopped Honor, not without difficulty. He was out of practice.

“If you really think it’s so easy —” she dropped to the ground “— then let’s have a race.”

Brienne climbed back on the horse, seated side saddle now. Jaime copied her, not without considerable effort. She pretended not to notice with struggling, which annoyed him even more.

Once he was settled, he nodded. She pointed ahead. 

“I’ll race you to that stream.” And then she was off, at a lightning fast pace. He shot off after her, holding on for his dear life. 

There was no point, because less than halfway there, he went flying off of Honor’s back. He hit the ground with a hard thud.

Brienne noticed right away and circled back, pulling Glory to his side. She hopped off and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Ser Jaime?” She was legitimately concerned for him, he realized. Milking it for a moment, he kept his eyes closed, pretending to be knocked unconscious, or worse. “Ser Jaime?” she said again, panic in her voice.

And then he laughed. 

“This is so much better than being locked in a tower.”

She punched him in the shoulder, hard, but that too was better than being alone. 

“I was worried about you, you idiot!” She walked back over to Glory.

“Aren’t you going to help me up?” he asked, rolling on to his back.

“No!” she barked, and rode off in a huff. But really she waited for him at the stream, where she was filling up their waterskins. He jumped off of Honor to join her.

“Fine,” he admitted. “Side saddle is...more difficult than I gave it credit for.” He reached into the stream. The water felt cool on his skin. He let it tickle his wrists. He caught some in his hands and and poured it over his head. Brienne was staring at him.

“What?” he asked. 

“You’re wet,” she said. He grinned. And then he splashed her.

“Stop!” she shrieked, practically a squeal. He did it again and she splashed him back. If the stream were a little deeper — an actual river — he would’ve pulled her into the water with him. He would’ve pressed down on her shoulders so they both went under. He would’ve pulled her out so they could dry in the sunlight. How had he forgotten how good it felt to be alive and in the sun and laughing with somebody else, even this strange woman?

She pushed his chest and he fell in the water and she laughed. 

“Are you always like this?” she asked, hiding her grin.

“I’m drunk on sunlight,” he said, shaking his head back and forth and spraying water everywhere, like a dog. She kicked water at him, but he just laid back and smiled.

“Why am I always on the ground and you’re always above me, you absolute beast of a woman?” he asked, smirking. But she frowned, her good mood gone. She walked back over to the horses, strapping her waterskins to the saddle.

“We need to find somewhere to make camp before the sun sets,” she said, cold. He missed her laugh, big and loud and inappropriate, like she was.

Instead, he followed her in silence, climbing back on Honor and letting her lead. Eventually, she found somewhere she deemed OK to camp. They set up in silence — well, she was silent, and he kept trying to goad her into conversation. At most, he would get a grimace or a one word answer from her. It was exhausting, so eventually he stopped trying. 

“I’ll take first watch,” she said when they were done eating.

“No,” he said. “I’ll do it.” She pouted her lips.

“You don’t have any armor.”

“I know.”

“And you haven’t fought a real opponent in…”

“Five years,” he finished for her. “But you’re the one who traveled for weeks to get me, all alone. You must be exhausted. I can take first watch.”

“I’m not tired,” she said, and then she betrayed herself with a yawn. “I can do it.”

“Lady Brienne,” he began.”

“I’m not a lady —”

“Giant,” he said instead, which just made her roll her eyes. A wonderful sight. “I know you think I’m useless, but I can do this.” He hoped she didn’t notice the way his voice broke on “useless.”

Either way, she agreed and walked over to her bed roll. He wanted to tell her to take her armor off and relax, but he didn’t want to press his luck.

She rolled away so she wasn’t facing him, which was fine. He didn’t care if she liked him. His feelings weren’t hurt. They _ weren’t. _

A couple minutes later, when he thought she was already asleep, she said, “I don’t think you’re useless” and it made staying awake just a little easier.

—

The next day Brienne was still dour. He decided that instead of constantly teasing her, he’d try the silent treatment instead.

But really, he was only punishing himself, because Brienne didn’t seem bothered by the lack of conversation at all. Stubborn woman.

“You know,” he said after he couldn’t take the quiet anymore. “If you don’t want my company, I can take myself back to King’s Landing and you can go back to wherever you came from — Farth, was it?” He knew it was Tarth and she knew he knew it was Tarth.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, scowling at him. “Your sister said if I brought you back, she’d knight me. And I intend to make it happen.”

“I could just knight you now, and then you’d be rid of me,” he said. “Any knight can knight someone else.” She laughed or scoffed — either way he didn’t like it.

“I promised to bring you back to King’s Landing and I keep my promises, ser,” she said. 

“But it’s not just that,” he said, catching something else in her tone. She sighed.

“I’m going to be the first woman knight. No one will believe me if I said some knight no one’s seen in five years did it in the middle of a forest. There should be … ceremony. With lots of people there. My father, if he can make it in time.” Now that she was picturing it, it felt so real. “And the prince and princess would be there — and you, I guess — and maybe my old master of arms, Ser Goodwin, and all those knights I beat in the melee and Ronnet Connington —”

“Connington, who’s that? Your betrothed?”

This was apparently exactly the wrong thing to say, because Brienne shut up immediately. Her face was bright red and she wouldn’t look at him. He’d annoyed her for two days, but he didn’t think he ever actually upset her until now. He tasted something sour in his mouth.

“Lady Brienne, it was just a jape—“ he began, but she cut it off. 

“No, I know, it’s very funny to imagine Brienne the Beauty as betrothed to anyone.”

“I didn’t mean that —“

“I was betrothed three times — and Connington was the second — and married none, so you can imagine that I don’t agree about how funny it is.”

“What happened?” he asked. He didn’t think she’d tell him, but she was full of surprises.

“The first one got the flu and died. He might have been lovely — we never met. The second was Ronnet Connington.”

She was silent, apparently considering how much to say. For once, Jaime knew not to speak. 

“He… threw a rose at me and told me I was too ugly to wed.”

“And you didn’t stab him on the spot?” Brienne gave a small laugh. 

“I didn’t have my sword. A mistake I didn’t make the third time.”

“You stabbed the third one?!” He believed it. Brienne actually laughed that time. He wanted to count her laughs, catalogue them, trap them in bottles so he could play them back when he was feeling glum.

“No, he said if I were to be his wife, I’d have to obey him. I said I’d only marry someone who could beat me in a fight. He went home with broken ribs.” The thought of Brienne demolishing some unexpecting lord was … lovely.

“So it’s not a great tragedy that you remain unwed, given the men on offer,” he said, letting her words sink in. _ She’d only marry someone who could beat her in a fight. _ She shrugged.

“I’m my father’s only child. His heir. It’s my duty to continue his line.” She shrugged again. “I don’t expect it to happen.” Jaime frowned.

“I don’t know. Most knights marry eventually. Even giant ones.” She shot him a glare.

“I’m not most knights.”

“Thank the Seven.”

They chatted idly for the next few miles. Jaime kept asking her questions about Tarth — Was the water really as blue as he’d read it was? Were the beaches rock or sand? How far out had she swam? — and he regaled her with stories from Casterly Rock. She was polite enough not to mention that he had pretended to not remember where she was from earlier in the day, and he was grateful for it. 

He had just finished telling her about an obscene prank he and Tyrion had played on their septa when Brienne finally asked a question.

“How _ did _ you get locked in that tower?” He opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know what. He bit his lip. He shook his head. Honor trembled beneath him, sensing his discomfort.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he choked out. 

“But —”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” And he rudely pulled ahead.

—

When they stopped a few evenings later to make camp, Brienne could tell Jaime was up to something. He kept … _ smiling _ at her. It wasn’t his real smile, like when he saw his horses again or played in the stream. And it wasn’t his mean smile, let when he made fun of her. It was … obsequious. Cloying. He wanted something.

He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since she asked about the tower. She thought he was being unfair— if she could tell him about Connington, he could tell her why he needed to be saved at all. But obviously he didn’t agree. 

He was silent all through supper. When they were done eating, it wasn’t yet truly dark. Neither of them would have been able to sleep yet. 

Jaime rose from the log he’d been sitting on and stretched.

“Lady Brienne, I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Then he paused, as if she should know to what he referred.

“I’ve said a lot of things.” He snorted.

“You said I hadn’t fought a real opponent in five years.” He drew his sword from its sheath. “Let’s dance, milady.” She rolled her eyes at him and she saw his hackles rise. 

“I’m supposed to be saving you, not hurting you.”

“Confident, aren’t you? Or are you just looking for excuses not to face me?” He twisted his wrist, his sword cutting through the air. She knew he was just trying to goad her. 

Yet. She did want to show him she was better than him. And it would be a productive way to take out her frustration at him for being so — so frustrating. She rose and reached for the straps of her chest plate. It fell to the ground with a dull thunk.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It wouldn’t be fair if I were the only one with armor,” she said as she removed her wrist guards. “And I’m not worried about getting injured.”

He smiled at her then, his real smile, the horse smile, and she was glad she had the buckles of her armor to distract her from its force. She tried to remember she was still mad at him. 

“Do you need assistance, my lady?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Do you need assistance, oh giantess?”

“Stop calling me that, too. Busy yourself with warming up.” She looked up and smiled at him. “You’ll need it.”

Her sword sang when she finally unsheathed it. They circled each other, a little distance from their camp site.

He took the first lunge, as she knew he would, and then they were off. Despite the fact that he hadn’t fought anything but a dummy for the last five years, he was strong and quick and agile. But he was also cocky and self-assured. She let him go through his paces, charging at her, trying all the tricks and moves he’d obviously practiced so diligently.

But Brienne matched every stroke. She was stronger than him, and better trained than him — maybe not five years ago, but now for certain. And he was tiring out just as she was warming up.

Still, it was the most fun she’d ever had fighting. Most men got annoyed when she beat them, but everything she blow she landed left Jaime looking _ delighted _. She felt the clash of their steel in her blood. She understood, now, what he’d meant when he said he was drunk on sunlight — she was drunk on this.

She saw her chance, and in a few swift moves he was disarmed and shoved to the ground. She fell on top of him, her knees on either side of his hips and she pressed the flat of her blade to his neck.

“Yield.”

“For you? Gladly.”

—

They fell into a strange routine after that. While they journeyed they would chat — though they carefully avoided anything serious. They didn’t talk about their mothers — both dead, they realized. They didn’t talk about his father, and they only talked about Cersei in the vaguest possible ways. They didn’t talk about what they were going to do when they did make it to King’s Landing. But otherwise, their conversations were pleasant, sometimes even fun.

Despite their newfound...friendship, they kept their distance from each other. They never touched, unless they were sparring. If they did accidentally brush against each other, Brienne felt a shiver, though she wasn’t cold. She tried to stop it from happening, but that was the thing about an accidental touch — you could never predict it.

Some days Jaime would challenge her to a horse race, and she would occasionally oblige him, careful not to tire out Honor and Glory. One day they passed a real river and Jaime demanded they stop so they could go swimming. Brienne refused. 

“I haven’t gone swimming in five years!”

“We’ll be too vulnerable.”

“Brienne, I haven’t gone swimming in five years!” he repeated, like she hadn’t spoken. With that, he peeled off his boots and jumped into the water in just his shirt and trousers before Brienne could stop him. “It’s freezing!” he yelled, smiling and swimming in a little circle. “Come on!”

She was helpless against him when he was like this. She took off her own boots and waded into the water. He was so surprised, she was able to catch him off guard with her first, enormous splash in his face. But he was quick and got her back quickly. 

Soon they were both screaming and laughing in a storm of water. Soon they tired themselves out and were just floating in the water. Brienne enjoyed the feeling of it on her skin. It had been so long since she had a bath.

She looked over at Jaime and realized his shirt was clinging to his skin...not unattractively. She looked away quickly, but she could still feel a blush rising to her face. She hoped he hadn’t seen.

But Jaime was too fascinated by the way her white shirt had gone transparent in the water to notice her face. He didn’t mention it, lest she grow self-conscious. 

A few days later, Jaime was feeling particularly antsy while they rode. Even Honor seemed annoyed with him. And he wouldn’t shut up.

“Are you going to be like this all day?” Brienne asked.

“Like what?” he asked with one of his jerk smiles.

“Annoying!” He laughed at that, which annoyed her more.

“I’m just … energetic today!” he said, trying to get Honor to go a little faster. Glory matched his pace without any effort from Brienne.

“Well stop,” she said. “It’s bad enough you’ve been my only company for two weeks.”

“Well you’ve been my only company for fi—”

“For five years, I know! You only mention it every hour!” He smiled at her again and she knew she was completely doomed. Brienne of Tarth, who’d never looked at a man twice before, let alone let herself _ fantasize _ about one, was so bewitched with this charming, golden, infuriating idiot. She told herself she had to cut it out before they got to King’s Landing — that she was just lonely and it was just the pressure of being together all the time and that letting her heart get carried away was the last thing she needed to do. _ She was a knight. _And yet...

He suggested they stop and spar, letting him get his energy out. Brienne argued that it was midday, that they shouldn’t let themselves get distracted out in the open like that, but he knew she would cave. And she did.

“I’m not taking off my armor,” she said as she unsheathed her sword. “It’ll take too much time. Since we _ are _ trying to get to King’s Landing, theoretically.”

Jaime conceded the point with a little nod. And then they were off. He’d gotten so much better since they started doing this. Jaime was made to have a sword in his hand, an extension of what the gods had given him and he had honed. And his footwork was textbook — probably from all the actual he read in the tower. And fighting him made her better. She could feel it. There was no one else she’d rather spar.

She still disarmed him, anyway. But then he fought dirty and _ tripped her _ and wrenched her sword from her hand. So she punched him and he dropped his own sword but then he tackled her. They rolled around on the ground for a moment, trying to best each other. She got a good punch in on his chin. He pulled her hair. In the madness, they kicked both their swords far away.

Finally he ended up on top of her and they were both gasping for air and grinning ear to ear and he yelled, “I win! I’m the winner!” It was the first time.

And then a deep voice behind them said, “No, I think we are.” 

Then someone hit Jaime over the head and he passed out. 

—

Brienne had a headache. She hated waking up with a headache. She tried to stretch her neck back, but her head hit something. Something hard. Then she realized she wasn’t lying down, but, rather, sitting up. And then she remembered that she hadn’t been sleeping all — she’d been knocked out.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was tied to a large tree. Jaime was next to her, still asleep. It was hard to see him clearly in the day’s fading light, but it looked like there was mud and dried blood on his face. There was probably some on hers, too.

She took in their surroundings, trying not to move too much and give away that she’d awaken.

Five men — the men who’d attacked them, she realized — were sitting around a fire, drinking and laughing. They were bandits or robbers or thieves — bad news, whichever way she twisted it. One was missing two of his fingers on his left hand. Another wore an eye patch. They were grizzled and manic and absolutely terrifying. Honor and Glory were tied up to the side and neither seemed happy about it.

The robber with the eye patch started singing a song. It was as good as a cover as she was going to get.

“Jaime,” she whispered, trying to nudge him with her elbow. The ropes were pulled too tight around her torso, but she could get her knee next to his. “Jaime,” she tried again, a little louder, hitting his leg with hers.

He started to rouse. She kicked him again and he pulled his head up with a start.

“What happen—” She shushed him as quietly as possible.

“These idiot robbers captured us. We didn’t notice them because we were sparring.”

He was blinking, finally coming to full consciousness. He looked her right in the eyes, and for a second she got distracted by his, which were catching every dumb spark from the idiots’ fire. Why did he have to look like that? Why did she have to be such a _ girl _ at the most inconvenient times?

“I’m sorry—” he began.

“Don’t worry,” she interrupted, swallowing down all the emotions that were threatening to climb out of her chest. “I have a plan. We’ll—”

“They’re awake!” Eye patch had stopped singing. Now, the five of them were stepping closer. 

“That was some fine armor you had there, girl,” the one with eight fingers said. “We thought you were a man until we got you out of it. But now we know.”

Brienne tried to take deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She needed a new plan. _ Jaime _ needed her to have a new plan.

Instead he said, “You don’t understand. I’m Jaime Lannister.” They laughed at that.

“Jaime Lannister? The princess’ brother? He’s locked in a tower like a useless maiden,” one said. He had a long, filthy beard. Jaime flinched.

“Not anymore,” he said, trying to sound big and strong. “It’s me. I’m him. And my father Tywin Lannister will give you lots of money if you let us go.”

They laughed again and Brienne had wished he’d left his big mouth shut.

“I think if we tell your daddy we captured you, he’s not going to believe us, boy. Even if you’re telling the truth,” the one with the dagger said. He used it to pick something out of his teeth, trying to intimidate them. Brienne was disappointed in herself when she shivered. 

“And that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun with _ her,” _ eye patch said, and he was untying the ropes around her and the one with the enormous beard was pulling on her shoulders and she screamed — a terrible cry, more animal than human. She snapped at them like a dog, trying to jerk her arms out of their rough hands. 

“No!” That was Jaime yelling now. “She’s rich, too! She’s from Tarth! The sapphire isle! It’s where all the sapphires come from! Let her go!” He sounded as desperate as she felt. They had her arms pulled behind her back, hard. Another was reaching for her breeches. She tried to kick him, but he caught her ankle.

“Enough!” the eight-fingered man said, and the others stopped. He was the leader, then. “Put the bitch down.” The men obliged, though one pinched her ass as he let go. She would’ve kicked him as he set her down, but it would’ve done her no favors. She needed them to forget she was a threat, that she even existed.

Eight Fingers approached Jaime, running his namesake through the golden stubble on his jaw. Jaime jerked his head out of his hand.

“Maybe the little lordling is right. Maybe we should just write to his papa.” He made a gesture with his head and they untied Jaime, too. They held his arms behind him and marched him to a log. Brienne was forgotten. 

“But why would your daddy believe we’ve really got you? He doesn’t go check that tower, does he?” His smirk was evil in the firelight. Cutting. 

“I could write the ransom note,” Jaime offered. He was trying to do his best to keep his voice from shaking. 

“Or we could send him proof,” Eight Fingers said, and Brienne felt like her heart stopped beating. He nodded and the one with the dagger raised it’s rusted edge. Eye patch held out Jaime’s hand. 

Jaime screamed and passed out again.

—

There was something wet on Jaime’s face. That’s what he realized first. He was so cold: that’s what came second. Then he felt the pain in his hand. 

He opened his eyes. He was in the forest, lying on the hard eather. Someone — Brienne, his brain supplied — had wrapped a blanket around him, and something soft was under his head. The sun was just beginning to rise, but the fire next to him was burning strong. It didn’t really help how cold he was.

Suddenly it all came back — getting captured, the robbers, his hand. That’s why it hurt. He was too afraid to look at it. Instead, he tried to sit up. 

Brienne was at his side in a moment with her canteen. Her eyes were red, from lack of sleep or tears, he didn’t know (it was both).

“Jaime,” she said, so soft. He’d never realized how soft she could be. “You’re awake.” She helped him drink, then settled next to him.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice still hoarse though he’d had his fill. He noticed Honor and Glory tied off to the side. They were near a river.

“What do you remember?” she asked, so tenderly. She wasn’t wearing her armor — he didn’t see it anywhere — and she was rubbing calming circles into his back. He liked it a lot. He wondered why he’d never gotten her to touch him before, under less disturbing circumstances.

“We got kidnapped by — what did you call them, idiot robbers?” She smiled at his joke, but it was pained. “And then they took you and then they took me and then —”

He looked down at his hand, finally. Brienne had wrapped it in one of her clean shirts. There was blood. He looked away. She took his left hand. 

“They were going to hurt me and you distracted them. So then they turned on you,” she said. “And they cut off two of your fingers.” She said it really fast, like it would hurt less that way. It didn’t.

“How did we get away?” he asked, softly. She sighed and he saw again how exhausted she was. 

“You were screaming and then you passed out. But they didn’t realize that I’d grabbed our swords.” That’s all she said.

“You — you killed them?” She nodded. “Had you ever done that before?” She shook her head. He threw his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. He took care not to bang his hand around too much. 

“You did the right thing.” He realized he was crying. He really was the damsel in distress.

“I didn’t,” she mumbled. “I’m so sorry. Jaime.”

“For what? Why are you sorry?” She pulled away from him then, embarrassed.

“Your hand. It’s my fault.” Now he tried to smile at her.

“Did you chop off my fingers and I didn’t notice?” It hurt to say it. _ His fingers. _ Gone.

“I was supposed to protect you—”

“You killed five men. I was protected.”

“I wasn’t fast enough.”

“And I was trying to protect the maiden fair,” he said, as if she hadn’t interrupted him. He reached up to push her hair back, but he lifted his right hand and stopped mid-air. She didn’t notice. “Let me have my last knightly act.”

She quirked her eyebrows. “Your last?” 

“I don’t think I’ll be a very good knight with eight fingers.” He didn’t want to cry again. He was so tired. 

“Don’t talk like that,” she said, smoothing back his hair. “Try to rest.” He’d already been asleep for a day, but she hadn’t told him that yet. 

“Alright,” he said. “Alright. But you rest, too.”

“I will.” She did not keep that promise.

— 

After another day of rest, Jaime was still feverish. He drank the broth she gave him, and the water, but mostly he slept. And when he was conscious, he was babbling, incoherent, confused. 

“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me,” he said over and over again, half awake. She figured he didn’t mean her until he rolled over and said, “Brienne.” She wrapped him in her arms.

“I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t want to be alone again.”

“You won’t be.”

She was terrified to move him, but she was also afraid that if she waited for him to get better, he never would.

“Just leave me here,” he whispered one night, his skin on fire. She had carried him into the river, trying to cool him off while still preventing his right hand from getting wet. 

“No,” she said. “I won’t.” She wrapped the blankets tighter around him.

“So stubborn,” he muttered, his eyes barely open.

“Yes,” she repeated, smoothing his messy hair. “I’m too stubborn to let you die. So don’t.” She didn’t sleep a second that night, too terrified to look away from the rise and fall of his chest. And in the morning when he was alive, but she knew they needed to move.

She managed to sit him on Glory in front of her, leaning back into her chest. She talked to him nonstop, to calm herself more than him, honestly. 

“You have to be OK, Jaime. You have to get better. We’re so close to King's Landing. And you’ll see Tyrion and Cersei again.”

“And we’ve got to get you knighted,” he mumbled back. It was the most words he’d said in two days.

“Exactly,” she said, trying not to cry. She held him tighter.

For once, they got lucky. They met a farmer and his daughter on the road. Brienne was hesitant to trust someone after what had happened, but she had no choice. They guided them to their village, where the healer, Tarly, saw Jaime right away.

He praised Brienne for the way she’d taken care of the wounds — “probably the dagger was dirty, that’s the problem” — but she knew it hadn’t been good enough. Tarly was certain it would clear up in a week. Brienne waited and prayed.

For two days, Jaime slept. Tarly gave Brienne tasks to do to occupy some of her hours — fetching firewood, carrying grain. His wife was very pregnant, so she couldn’t do much lifting and moving. Brienne was happy to help, but the rest of her time she spent at Jaime’s side. She didn’t want him to wake up alone.

On the third day, his fever broke. Tarly recommended he get some air, so Brienne took him on a walk through the village. He clutched her elbow, feeling heavy on his feet after so many days of convalescence. They touched all the time now, a constant reassurance, though neither had commented on it. He was tired and heavy and sad.

As they walked through a meadow, he said, “Do you want to know how I got stuck in that tower?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want,” she said. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” he said, squeezing her arm, but avoiding her gaze. 

He told her. He told her how he promised his mom he would protect his family and how she had died and how Cersei had been cursed and how he’d wanted to save her and how he _ ran _ at the chance when she finally gave it even though Tyrion begged him not to and how actually Cersei had just found a _ loophole _ and she swapped one blonde-haired green-eyed Lannister for another and how she’d run into Rhaegar on the way home and how he couldn’t open the door until the day Brienne showed up. He left out the part about true love. It was the cowardly thing to do, but he couldn’t put his heart on the line like that. Not now.

“I can’t protect anyone anymore,” he said, waving his right hand in the air. He was missing his pointer and middle fingers — Tarly had removed the bandages, promising the air and sun would be best for the wound. But every time he looked at it, or tried to form a fist, or tried to pick up _ anything _ he felt such an overwhelming sense of dread.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, for the millionth time.

“You need to stop apologizing.”

“It’s my fault. If I had been faster I could’ve got them before they hurt you. I’m just playing at being a knight —”

“Faster? Playing?” At least annoyance was vanquishing the dread, a little. “You killed five men and rescued me when I was unconscious and bleeding out. Then you kept me from dying. _ Nothing _ is your fault.” She felt like an idiot. She should be comforting him. 

“If I weren’t so obsessed with being a knight, you’d still be safe in that tower,” she said, mostly mumbling. He rolled his eyes.

“And I thought I’m supposed to be the melodramatic one. You saved me. Twice — once from the tower and once from the robbers. I’d rather be out here with no fingers than up there with all ten.” He only realized the truth of those words as they came out of his mouth. He was so glad to be living again, really living, even if his options had been cut short.

She didn’t believe him, though. 

“And you can help me train again,” he offered. “With my left, maybe? We’ll see how my grip is.”

—

Before they left the village, Tarly’s wife, Gilly, gave them a blessing, shielding them until they reached home. “You look like you could use some restful sleeps,” she said, before bidding them farewell. Jaime promised he would send livestock and grain and cloth and gifts for the baby when they reached King’s Landing. 

They had to go more slowly the rest of the way. Jaime was still weak and he had a hard time with most tasks — tying up the horses, setting up the fire, filling the waterskins. He got frustrated easily, but she didn’t help him unless he asked. Not that he used words — just a nod of his head that gave her permission.

Despite Gilly’s blessing, they were both terrified the first night. Brienne dreamt of Jaime, covered in blood at her feet and she was helpless to do anything as he died.

He shook her awake. “It was just a dream. I’m here. I’m fine. I know.” He pulled his bedroll over to hers and they laid on their sides. They woke up wrapped together and it kept their nightmares away, so neither said anything. Brienne tried to remember every moment, knowing it was going to be over soon. When she was on the road alone, saving maidens or farmers or whatever, she’d only have the memories of his warmth and his softness and his bulk and the way his stubble tickled her neck and the way his chest felt rising and falling… 

She worried about what would happen when they got to King’s Landing. She’d never considered it before, not really. She’ll become a knight and then she’ll go...somewhere. Home? But Jaime would stay in King’s Landing, surely, with his siblings. There was no place for her there. But was there a place anywhere for a woman knight? The impossibility of it had never occurred to her before.

One night Brienne cut her hand while slicing an orange. Jaime reached in his bag for a cloth and pulled out a handkerchief — the handkerchief with the stars and sun bursts that he’d finished right before she rescued him. He wrapped it around the cut.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, her voice shaking a little.

“I made it. You made fun of me for sewing, remember?”

“I didn’t make fun of your sewing. I was jealous, remember?” She studied the stitches. “Why the sun and moon?” He shrugged.

“Usually I did lions or dragons. Or flowers. But one day I woke up and I wanted to do that instead. You can keep it if you like it so much.” 

“It’s the Tarth crest,” she admitted reluctantly. “Suns and moons. I don’t think I have anything with it to show you…” She’d left her nicest thing in a room in the Red Keep. Jaime just shook his head and gave her a shy smile. She handed him a slice of the orange.

—

They were almost at King’s Landing. They’d probably make it tomorrow, Jaime thought, based on how many people they’d seen on the roads (Brienne kept forgetting that he’d never actually been to King’s Landing before). By silent agreement, they stayed away from the King’s Road, from large groups of people, from most people, but they still saw some here and there. 

Jaime was running out of time. He wanted to do it before they got to King’s Landing. That way, if she said no — _ when _ she said no, the most self-loathing part of him said — they could just part ways and he could sulk alone. And if she said yes…

He almost didn’t want to imagine it. It would be too sweet, if she did.

She’d said she’d only marry a man who could best her in a fight. Before he’d had a chance of doing that. But now...

He would do it tonight, anyway. Maybe he’d get lucky. They’d be sitting by the fire, finishing the rest of the fruit the way they had planned the evening before (Brienne was very diligent with rationing their food, which he admired. If he were in charge, they would’ve starved after a week). He’d peel the orange himself this time and hand her half. And maybe some juice would run down her chin and he’d wipe it away. And her eyes would look so bright in the firelight, they’d practically sparkle. And he’d say, “Brienne, I know you’ll say no, but I have to ask anyway: Will you mar—”

“You’re very quiet today.”

Brienne interrupted his daydream. He didn’t mind.

“Just thinking,” he replied, cryptic. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask for anymore details. _ Maybe she knows _. He wondered if that would make it easier or harder. Maybe she’d already decided she didn’t want him. He wouldn’t want him, with eight fingers. But maybe…

“Jaime? Jaime?” He’d been ignoring her.

“Sorry?” he said.

“I think those men are coming toward us.”

He looked where she pointed. Gold cloaks. And they were definitely coming their way. _ Oh no _. Both of them reached for their swords, more out of instinct than anything else. Jaime was pretty useless with a sword now, anyway.

“Are you Ser Jaime Lannister?” the front one asked after they’d approached. The captain, presumably.

“Yes,” he said. “And this is my rescuer, Lady Brienne of Tarth.” The gold cloak ignored her. 

“Your sister told us to watch for your return. Travelers mentioned seeing two strange knights on the road. We thought it might be you.”

Two strange knights. Jaime almost laughed. That was accurate. They were dirty and dingy, but they still had their swords.

“We’ll accompany you the rest of the way,” the captain said. That wasn’t what Jaime wanted.

“Surely that won’t be necessary,” Jaime said, his dreams of a fireside proposal evaporating into thin air. He wanted to know where they stood before they got to King’s Landing, before he faced his family. He should miss them after five years, but the thought of seeing them made him feel anxious. It was a heavy rock in his stomach, dragging him down. He just wanted one thing to be settled.

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne said, suddenly formal now that others were here. “It’s what the princess wants.” She gave him a sharp look with her stupidly beautiful eyes: They’re not asking. He nodded stiffly. The gold cloaks turned their horses around and they all continued in the same direction. Jaime pulled Honor closer to Glory, feeling protective of Brienne around all these strangers. He saw her do the same and felt warm in his chest. She _ cared for him _, at least, even if she didn’t…

“We should be at the Red Keep in a few hours,” the captain said. Jaime almost fell off his mount (Brienne’s hand was on his forearm in an instant, as if she were worried he was suddenly feverish again). 

“I thought we were another day’s ride away,” he said, making no effort to hide the disappointment from his voice. 

But the captain was right. Within two hours, they were outside the gates of King’s Landing. They attracted glances as they made their way through the city — four gold cloaks, a lady knight and … whatever Jaime was now — but no one stopped them. He thought he heard whispers: “Lady Brienne,” “the princess,” “Ser Jaime,” “Lord Tywin.”

They reached the Red Keep too soon. Jaime could feel their time on the road slipping away, water through his fingers, as if it were all a dream. He looked at Brienne across the courtyard as she helped the stable hands with Honor and Glory. He thought of how much he didn’t like her at the beginning and how much he liked her now. He wished they had more time. He prayed they’d get more. 

A steward came to bring him to his sister. By the time Brienne turned to face him, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3 needs a little finagling, but i'm confident i'll post it tomorrow


	3. I'm A Believer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a day late! blame gwendoline for being so distracting at the emmys. and blame me for completely rewriting this third part after i published chapter 2.
> 
> thanks to everyone who commented. im definitely in that self-doubt space at this moment, but i needed to just get this out here or i'd spend the rest of week revising this story. 
> 
> this chapter bold-faced steals a line from grey's anatomy. sorry shonda

“It’s terrible, Jaime.”

That was the first thing his sister had said to him after five years apart, when he’d reached for her with both hands.

“She let that happen to you?” That made Jaime defensive.

“She’s the only reason I’m alive,” he choked out. Cersei sat down at the table in her room and poured herself a goblet of wine. None for Jaime. 

“I’ll talk to father,” she said. “We’ll have something made for you...a glove maybe.”

“A glove?” He felt dizzy and tired. Nothing was going the way he planned. He sat across from Cersei, even though she never offered the chair. 

“To cover it,” she said. She took a long drink of the wine. 

“Why?” he asked. She looked at him like he was dumb.

“It’s hideous, Jaime. Who will want to look at it? It’s bad enough you’re useless now, but we shouldn’t all have to be reminded of it every time we look down.” He gazed upon her. When she’d been locked in the tower — and when he’d been locked in the tower — she felt closer to him than she did now. He realized suddenly that he didn’t know his sister at all.

“Useless?” She rolled her eyes.

“I was going to ask Rhaegar to have the king appoint you to his guard. That way you could stay in King’s Landing until father could find an appropriate wife for you. So we could spend time together again.” She smiled at him and it was almost genuine. “Like when we were little.” Her face fell. “But now you can’t protect anyone. Father will have to use all the influence he has left to set you up at Casterly Rock with some useless daughter of a minor house. It was bad enough that you were always the stupidest Lannister. Now, this.” Her words stung because he knew she wasn’t being cruel on purpose — she was just telling the truth. He was worthy of nothing now, certainly not of Brienne. He realized his sister kept avoiding looking at him.

“I missed you so much,” he said, mostly to himself. “I missed you even though it was your fault —”

“Shhh,” she said, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. It was the first time she touched him, he realized. “There are always people listening.”

“And we can’t have people knowing the truth,” he replied, matter of fact. 

“Of course not,” she scoffed.  _ Stupidest Lannister _ . “People need to believe in something. A love story. You helped give me one. I’ll always owe you.” With that, she rose from the table and sat at her vanity. She started to brush her long blonde hair. 

“Is that all?” he asked. 

“We’ll have a ball at the end of the week to celebrate your safe return. Then father will send you back to the Rock.” He nodded.

“And when will you knight Lady Brienne?” That was the only thing that mattered now, he realized. It was the only thing he could give Brienne that would have any worth. Cersei laughed, cutting and cruel.

“Be serious, Jaime.” Now he was angry.

“You charged her to save me from that tower and she did. And then she saved me from the men who did this — she killed them all.” He raised his right hand in her face and she flinched away. “Lady Brienne is the most honorable woman — no, person — I’ve ever met and you  _ will _ keep you promise to her.”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

“Shave that beard,” she yelled after him.

— 

Jaime found Brienne the next day. He was walking with Tyrion, who was showing him every shortcut he’d found in the Red Keep, when they came upon Brienne in the training yard, fighting a dummy. They watched her a moment. Well, Jaime watched Brienne. Tyrion watched Jaime. 

“Are you going to ask her —” But Jaime waved him off with his right hand and its three fingers. 

“Look at her, Tyrion,” he said. They watched her practice her footwork, which was already perfect. “She’s magnificent. How can I shackle her to…” Tyrion frowned. At that moment, Brienne finally noticed them. She sheathed her sword and gave a little bow.

“Ser Jaime. Lord Tyrion, it’s good to see you again.” Jaime strode over to her and hugged her.

“So formal now, are we, my lady?” She stiffened in his arms.

“It’s different here,” she mumbled. He nodded. He felt it, too. Brienne wasn’t his anymore. He pulled away from her.

“Have they told you about the ball?” She pouted.

“A ball? For what?” He smirked at her. 

“To celebrate my safe return, obviously. And Cersei said she’ll knight you the next morning.” He’d had to go to  _ Rhaegar _ for support, but she’d finally agreed she’d do it. 

“Why are you wearing gloves?” she asked, ignoring all his good news. He pulled his hands behind her back so she couldn’t see, but she snatched his right hand and held it up to her face. From a distance, it looked like he had all his digits, but up close the pointer and middle fingers were clearly fake, two thick wooden rods that rubbed against the scars on his hand. She cocked an eyebrow at him, a silent  _ What? _

“My sister’s idea,” he admitted. “She thought it would be more comfortable.” She dropped his hand.

“More comfortable for who?” He gave a half-hearted laugh. 

“So the ball’s at the end of the week,” he said, trying to shake off his discomfort. “So you have to stay here until at least then. And come to the ball.”

“I don’t do balls. Dancing...” Her voice trailed off, wistful. Then she snapped back into herself and unsheathed her sword. “Do you want to spar, or are you busy?”

Jaime was about to come up with some excuse not to when Tyrion reasserted his presence.

“His day’s wide open, Lady Brienne.” He turned to Jaime. “Stay. Spar. I’ll see you later.”

By the time they were done they were both sweaty and exhausted. Jaime had ditched the gloves and his right hand  _ hurt _ from the effort of holding his sword with just three fingers.

But he’d gotten Brienne to agree to come to the ball  _ and _ to let him find someone to make her a gown  _ and _ to dance with him at least once. It was well worth the cramp in his thumb.

— 

Brienne woke up from her dream with a start. She’d been at the ball, searching for Jaime and unable to find him. Her dress was huge and pink and hideous, but when she looked down it fell away and she was naked. Everyone pointed at her and laughed and she ran through them, holding back tears, until she found Jaime, bleeding out on the ground. 

Then she woke up. She wiped away the tears that had fallen in the real world and sat up. It had taken her hours to fall asleep at all, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to relax again. Quickly, she dressed and exited her chambers. She’d walk along the battlements until her heart calmed down. Maybe she could get another hour of sleeping in before dawn.

She didn’t want to be here. The first time she’d come to King’s Landing, she’d been dazzled by the spectacle. But now, inside the Red Keep, everything felt poisonous. When she spoke to people, their words felt double-edged, full of meanings she didn’t pick up.

And Jaime. He seemed so uncomfortable, so troubled. She missed the carefree boy who wanted to race horses and go swimming. He’d started to come back in their last days on the road, but he seemed so conflicted now.

The only person who’d been a comforting presence was the seamstress Jaime had sent to her room to measure her for her ballgown. She was stunningly beautiful — silver hair and eyes so blue they were almost purple — and she put Brienne at ease immediately. She promised she’d give Brienne the gown of her dreams — and Brienne hoped she didn’t mean the nightmares.

Really, she thought as she walked alone under the cold sky, she should just leave. Skip the ball, skip being knighted. Something about being here as so unsettling. And tomorrow she was to dine with the Lannisters and Prince Rhaegar, which could only go poorly. She wasn’t a lady. She couldn’t match Princess Cersei in charms or manners or grace. 

But Jaime. Jaime, who never asked her to be anything but what she was. She couldn’t leave Jaime. Soon she would have to — there was no place for her here. She would go back to Tarth, or be a hedge knight, or a sellsword, or whatever. But, until the end of the week, she could be here and spend time with him and no one could question it, and she wasn’t strong enough to give that up.

She saw the girls around the Keep — the young ladies — each one more beautiful and more proper than the rest. One of them would catch his eye, surely, and sooner rather than later. Maybe at the ball. That was probably the real reason for the ball — finding Jaime a proper wife.

“Lady Brienne?” She turned with a start. Apparently she had summoned him with her thoughts. He looked as tired as she felt.

“Ser Jaime. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He fell into step beside her. She noticed, quickly, that he wasn’t wearing that stupid glove. 

“Bad dreams,” she offered, quietly. He nodded.

“My bed is too lonely,” he said. If some other man said that to some other woman it would be lascivious, but Brienne knew he didn’t mean it like that. 

They fell into companionable silence as they walked and before she knew it, they were back at her chamber. They paused outside the door. She couldn’t bring herself to go inside. 

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,” she said. “Anymore,” she added. He nodded.

“Sure.”

“But if,” she continued, remembering that in a few days she just might never see him again. Brienne of Tarth had never been greedy, but for once in her life she wanted to be. “If you wanted to stay until I fell asleep — if you wouldn’t mind, staying, I mean — I know your actions would remain unimpeachable.” He gave her a little smile. He crawled into bed next to her, fully clothed. 

She only fell asleep once she heard the rise and fall of his breath next to her. This couldn’t last — they couldn’t last — but for now…

When he woke up in the morning, just after dawn, he kissed her knuckles. She pretended she was still asleep and only opened her eyes when he was gone. 

—

Dinner with the Lannisters was a disaster. Brienne had worn her nicest tunic with her nicest breeches, but still it wasn’t good enough. Cersei made fun of her for bowing. Tywin said nothing to her at all.

At first, the Lannister patriarch ignored both his sons to talk to the prince and, just a little, his daughter. They mostly made conversation about who was or wasn’t attending the ball, and what their attendance or lack there of signified in the long run. Jaime shared her puzzled looks — he knew nothing of the politics of King’s Landing — but there was something awkward and stiff about him, like all his charm had been sapped out. Tyrion, meanwhile, was surreptitiously getting drunk.

When the main course was served, Jaime’s left hand shook as he tried to cut his steak. Without thinking, Brienne reached out to steady him. He gave her a little smile, which she returned, until she realized every eye at the table was on them. 

“Lady Brienne,” Cersei said, ice cold. It was the first time she’d addressed her since she’d sent her on the quest. “I do hope you’ll wear something more appropriate for the ball. Women are supposed to be the fairer sex, after all.” Brienne felt her face get hot, all the way to the tips of her ears.

“I —” Jaime interrupted her.

“Brienne deserves your respect, dear sister, and you’ll give it to her.” It was the first thing he’d said all night. Cersei gave a stiff smile.

“Who said anything about disrespect? If anything, I want to make sure she respects the occasion at hand.” She turned on Brienne again. “ _ Lady _ Brienne, I didn’t realize how close you and my brother had become.” Now Rhaegar interrupted.

“You’re the one who sent her to rescue him,” the prince said, with a little smirk. He was saying it more to annoy Cersei than to defend her, Brienne knew. “Did you think they wouldn’t be spending time together?” Cersei took a dramatic sip of wine. Rhaegar turned to Jaime. “You missed getting to see your lady fight in the melee.”

Brienne opened her mouth to say, “I’m not his lady,” but Tyrion interrupted. 

“I’ve never seen Loras Tyrell look so shocked. Or bloody,” he said, with a wicked grin.

“Hopefully I’ll get to see her in action soon,” Jaime said, and he kicked her under the table. 

“If she were really such a good knight, Jaime would still have ten fingers,” Cersei said, disgusted. Rhaegar reached for her hand, trying to calm her, but she pulled away.

Tywin barely moved, but he drew every eye at the table to him right away.

“And if you could behave yourself then no one would have ended up in any tower at all,” he told his daughter. With that, he stood and left the table. They ate dessert in silence after that. Jaime walked Brienne back to her chambers, in silence again. When they reached her rooms, she said, “Do I really have to go to the ball?”

“Don’t you want to dance with me?” 

“I’m a terrible dancer,” she said, taking a step away from him. He took a step closer. 

“That didn’t answer the question.” He pouted. “Are you going to make me ask again?”

“Are you sure  _ you _ want to dance with me?” she replied.

“Yes, and it’s my ball so you have to do what I want.” She rolled her eyes. 

—

“Will you be accompanying your lady knight to the ball this evening?” Tyrion asked with a little smirk as they broke their fast. 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Jaime said before carefully using his left hand to spoon porridge into his mouth.

“Why not?” Tyrion was annoyed. Did he have to do everything? “She’s your  _ true love. _ ” Jaime shushed him.

“Don’t say things like that! There’s always someone listening!”

“And who are you afraid will hear? Father and Cersei were there for the curse.”

“Brienne doesn’t know,” Jaime said, suddenly finding his meal very fascinating. “I didn’t tell her that part of it.”

Tyrion dropped his spoon on the floor. It hit the rug with a dull thump. 

“Why didn’t you tell her!?” Tyrion asked, spilling some juice on the table. Jaime pulled off his right glove, stretching his remaining fingers.

“Look at this! What do I have to give Brienne? Nothing! Think about last night — Am I supposed to drag her in front of the Lannisters to torture her for the rest of her life? Am I supposed to keep her from saving maidens and defending the innocent, so she can grow old with a dumb cripple with nothing to offer but gold she doesn’t want and dresses she won’t like?”

Tyrion studied his brother for a long moment. His stupid, handsome brother. His hero. 

“Do you love Lady Brienne?” he asked, nice and slow.

“That’s not the point —”

“Of course it’s the point! Who cares you lost two fingers?! She doesn’t, I’m sure of it. Don’t bring her around our family! Go play house at Casterly Rock! Or go to Tarth! Or go be hedge knights! Buy a farm down south and never come back! Why make yourself miserable for nothing?”

“You don’t understand —”

“I don’t understand? You have no idea how absolutely miserable the last five years have been,” he said. “They were so  _ terrible _ to me and I wanted to be mad at you but I couldn’t because I missed you too much.” He blinked back tears. Jaime felt so ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean —” Tyrion shook his head to silence him.

“No, it’s the best part of you, your endless capacity to give. If I’d been stuck in the tower you would’ve done the same thing for me, and no one would have stopped you. You’re not even really mad at Cersei, that’s how much you love her, even though she’ll never deserve it.”

Jaime busied himself with peeling an orange. He hoped distantly that Brienne had a nice selection of fruit in her chambers.

“So what’s that got to do with Brienne?” he asked, trying to sound calm. Tyrion had the nerve to  _ roll his eyes _ at him.

“Brienne would deserve it. If you loved her. She’s the only one.”

With that he got up and headed for the door.

“You deserve it, too,” Jaime said, with a sad little smile. 

“Oh, I’m working on it, brother.” And he left.

But Jaime felt like Tyrion just didn’t understand. If Jaime were whole — if he had ten fingers — he would say to her, “Stay here with me.” Or he would say, “Let me follow you.” He would say, “Be mine.” He would say, “I think we can be extraordinary together instead of ordinary apart.”

But Jaime would be lucky to be ordinary now. And Brienne was extraordinary. He’d only hold her back from her magnificent destiny. 

Of course he loved her, but how could that ever be enough?

Still, he dressed carefully for the ball. If he were only going to get this one night with his lady, to parade her around and dance with her and make fun of all the simpering courtiers together, he was going to seize every second of it. 

He brushed his hair. He trimmed his beard. He used scented soap during his bath. His boots were shined and the gold buttons on his red velvet doublet practically sparkled. Tyrion came to fetch him when it was time. His little brother wore a matching doublet of the same fine velvet. Jaime fondly ruffled Tyrion’s blonde curls.

“So who’s the lady who’s caught your eye, little brother?” Tyrion shrugged, blushing faintly. Jaime didn’t know what he could do to make up for his absence from his brother’s side, but he had to think of something. Tyrion deserved so much more than he’d been given.

The ballroom was already crowded. Someone stopped Jaime every few feet, mostly people he didn’t recognize. They all wanted him to meet their daughters.  _ Maybe word of my hand hasn’t spread _ he thought, pulling his three good fingers into a fist insode the tight glove. He tried to evade their grasps, but it wasn’t easy. He just wanted to find Brienne. She was so tall, how could be possibly be missing her? 

“Have you seen Brienne?” he asked Cersei, when he and Tyrion found her in the mess of people. She looked beautiful, dressed in gold with Rhaegar on her arm. Her tiara sparkled with rubies. She had everything she wanted. And he’d been the one to pay the price.

“The beast? Maybe she decided not to come.”

“Don’t call her that,” Jaime whispered, sharp. He turned from his sister and looked for Brienne again. Maybe she  _ had _ decided not to come. Maybe she just wanted to leave him behind as quickly as possible. 

“You’ve always had a softness for strange creatures,” Cersei continued, something cold and sharp in her voice. Jaime was barely listening, still searching. “Ugly things that no one else wants.” He felt Tyrion flinch at his side. He turned his head back at Cersei.

“What did you just say?” Tyrion pulled on his hand, silently telling him it wasn’t worth it. But Tyrion  _ was _ worth it.

Cersei was unapologetic, though she kept her voice low. “You’re still quite handsome, brother. Just because of your … accident, that doesn’t mean you have to associate with hideous things.”

“Hideous things?” Jaime repeated, not bothering to lower his voice at all. Some people turned to look at them. “You’re not going to call our  _ brother _ a  _ thing _ — at least not in front of me. You would think the seven years you spent in a tower would have been enough for you to reflect on  _ what _ you did to make that fairy curse you, but I guess not. You could wear all the rubies in King’s Landing, but it won’t matter if you can’t change your ugly heart.”

He took Tyrion’s hand and stalked off — and that’s when he found Brienne.

—

Brienne felt ridiculous. It wasn’t the seamstress’ fault. The gown was beautiful. In fact, it was somehow exactly what she’d imagined all those moons ago, when she’d first seen the beautiful women of King’s Landing in their fantastic creations.

It was bright blue — Jaime’s suggestion, the seamstress said — and featured flowing, gauzy fabric that almost seemed to sparkle in the light. She said the cut of the dress was inspired by the Dornish style, though not it wasn’t as revealing as the real thing. Still, the low neckline might have been a little obscene on someone who was more endowed, but on Brienne it gave her just enough of a womanly shape. 

She gazed upon herself in the looking glass. It was the nicest she’d ever looked, that was true. It was indubitably the nicest gown she’d ever worn, and the handmaiden assigned to her had almost made her hair shine, and her eyes were bright and blue. 

But she still felt ridiculous. Who did she think she was kidding, playing at being a lady? What had Jaime called her? Giant. But really he meant ogre. And an ogre in a dress was still an ogre.

But Jaime had spent a lot of money on this dress. And he said he wanted to see her. It was such a little thing to give him what he asked.

She stayed in her chambers until the last possible moment until, with an air of resignation, she made her way to the ballroom.

It was jam-packed with beautiful people. Mostly they didn’t notice her, but the few who did looked at her chilled her with their looks. Surely some were just curious, but others had something venomous in their gaze. No, she didn’t like King’s Landing at all.

Cersei was the one who caught her eye — or the rubies in her tiara did, at least. She saw Jaime and Tyrion heading that way and decided to meet them over there. If she spent a few moments with Jaime now, while the night was young, she could slip away before Jaime started courting all these beautiful women. 

By the time she got there, Jaime was locked in a battle of the wills with Cersei. She caught the tail end.

“You could wear all the rubies in King’s Landing, but it won’t matter if you can’t change your ugly heart.”

Then he grabbed Tyrion and started walking right toward her. It took him a moment to realize she was there. Their eyes locked. He dropped Tyrion’s hand and slowly made his way to her. 

“My lady,” he said, giving her a deep bow. His sarcastic little smirk told her he was only jesting, but her wild heart still beat out of rhythm.

“Ser Jaime,” she said, trying to push away her nerves. What was she even nervous for? Nothing mattered. “How are your siblings?” He gave a little roll of his eyes.

“I think you heard how they are, Lady Brienne,” he said. “You...you look absolutely singular tonight.” Was that a compliment? It was honest, at least. If he said she was beautiful, she’d know he’d be lying. 

“You sent me the seamstress,” she said. “She deserves the praise.” He shook his head, but didn’t elaborate further.

“You promised you’d dance with me.”

“Ser Jaime —” He grabbed her hand. The wooden fingers felt strange between hers.

“I’ve never danced with a knight before,” he said as he pulled her toward where partygoers were waltzing. 

“I’m not a knight yet,” she reminded him, dragging her feet. They stopped amid the other dancers.

“Well, almost,” he conceded. He put his left hand on her waist and raised her left arm with his right. “You do know how to waltz, don’t you?” She rolled her eyes and put her right hand on his shoulder.

“Technically,” she admitted, feeling her face heat up. “I’m not very good at it.”

But actually she wasn’t so bad when she danced with Jaime. Usually, she was overwhelmed trying to count the steps — 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 — but with Jaime she could get lost in the music. When he smiled at her she felt like she was the most beautiful girl in the room. She had to look away. It was almost too much, to gaze upon him so close together.

They danced one song, then another. He made funny comments about people he recognized and she found herself laughing, not worrying about if people were watching them (which they definitely were). 

Jaime went to lead her for a third song, but she had to stop him.

“It’s your ball, Jaime. Dance with some of the other girls.” He pouted at her.

“I don’t want to dance with the other girls,” he said. 

“Don’t you?” It was out of her mouth before she could put it back in. He pulled away from her, finally.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Now she was pouting at him. Was he really going to make her say it?

“Isn’t the whole point of this ball to find you a Lady Lannister?” she whispered, angry and suddenly infinitely sad. She should have just agreed to another dance. She should have just pretended a little bit longer. He had the audacity to shrug at her.

At that moment, an elderly woman appeared at their side. She looked Brienne over.

“Well aren’t you magnificent,” she said. Brienne didn’t know how to respond. She turned her attentions to Jaime. 

“Ser Jaime,” the woman said, “Let me introduce you to my granddaughter, Lady Margaery Tyrell.” Lady Margaery was so beautiful and dainty and graceful that Brienne knew right away that she would be the one. She walked away before she had time to hear Jaime’s response, not caring if she was rude. She would have run if she weren’t sure that would draw more attention — more attention than the tallest girl in the brightest dress who just danced two dances with the most handsome man in the room was already drawing.

She pressed herself against the wall, hoping she could just disappear into the stone. Jaime  _ was _ dancing with Lady Margaery Tyrell, but he was looking at Brienne. She tucked her head down into her chest so he couldn’t see her face. If she could just catch her breath and control her face, she could leave. And then tomorrow she could put all of this behind her, she could —

Because luck was not at her side, Princess Cersei sidled up next to her.

“Lady Brienne,” she said, her voice dripping with something dark and dangerous. “Did you enjoy dancing with my dear brother? You seem quite unsettled.” Brienne lifted her head and met Cersei’s gaze. 

“It was lovely, your grace,” she said. She hoped she matched the princess’ steel. “Your brother is a wonderful dancer.” They both turned to watch him dance with Lady Margaery, but he was still clearly looking at the pair of them, a look of worry on his face.

“You’ll never marry him,” Cersei said, hard and fast.

“I didn’t —”

“We’ll never forgive you for ruining him and you’ll never marry him.”

“Ruining him? He’s not —”

Cersei continued like Brienne hadn’t spoken. “Tomorrow I will knight you — only because he demanded it — and then I expect you to go and never show your face around here again.”

Something like fire roared in Brienne’s belly. For the first time since coming to King’s Landing, she remembered how strong she was. She won the melee. She faced down a dragon. She killed five robbers. What was  _ Cersei  _ compared to that?

“Let me tell you something, princess,” she began. “Your brother is not ruined. Your brother is the finest knight I’ve ever met — the finest person I’ve ever met — and he will make his future wife very happy. And I hope, once he is wed, he and his wife and  _ Tyrion _ stay far away from you.” Cersei glared at her, but Brienne didn’t stop. “It’s my dream to be a knight, but I’d rather die an ancient septa then let someone as honorless as you knight me.” She pushed off the wall. 

“How dare you —”

“So I’ll do us all a favor and leave this cursed city tonight. I trust you’ll tell your brother why.” With that, she stormed toward the nearest exit. Once she was alone in the hallway, she broke into a sprint, holding her skirts up in one hand. Someone grabbed her elbow and spun her around — Jaime.

He put his hand on his thighs as he caught his breath.

“Where are you going?!” he asked between gasps of air. She pulled herself to her full height. She had to do this, a clean break. For both of them.

“I’m leaving.” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“My dancing wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’m leaving King’s Landing. Tonight.” She started to walk away.

“But — but — don’t you want to be knighted?” She looked over her shoulder, her last look at his stupid, beautiful face.

“I don’t need your sister’s approval. I know what I am.”

And then she was gone.

—

Jaime stormed back into the ball and found his sister immediately.

“What did you say to her?” he shouted as he backed her into a corner.

“To who?” she said, keeping her voice level, as if nothing abnormal was going on. Jaime had never felt so angry in his life. It burned from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“Lady Brienne,” he choked out. “That  _ only thing _ she wanted was to become a knight, and now you’ve ruined that for her, too. Maybe if you go apologize —” Cersei laughed. He was reminded of what Tyrion had said that morning.

“How naive are you, brother? I told her the truth — that she’ll never wed you and that she ought to be go. I  _ did _ offer to knight her, but once she knew you were off the table, she didn’t want it.” Jaime’s head was swimming, his words coming faster than his brain could think them.

“Why would you say that to her? Why would you — why did you even send her to me? If you find her so wanting. You knew that only my true love —”

Cersei patted his arm, as if he were a dumb child.

“Jaime,” she said, dripping with condescension. “I never thought she’d get you out of the tower.” He felt like he’d been slapped. “I knew you and our  _ little brother _ were getting antsy about sending someone to rescue you. So when he suggested it, I figured it took care of two problems. That ugly girl would give up or be eaten by that dragon, and I could tell you and Tyrion that I  _ tried.  _ How she tricked that tower into thinking she was your true love —”

“She is,” Jaime said, looking Cersei straight in the eye. “Brienne is my true love. Brienne’s didn’t trick anything. She’s not like you, full of secrets and loopholes and schemes. She’s honest and sturdy and kind and —”

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with her,” Cersei said, rolling her eyes. Suddenly, Rhaegar was at her side, walking away with her.

Jaime watched her go and he felt nothing at all.

—

Brienne burst into her room, her dress billowing behind her. But she took a step back when she realized she wasn’t alone. The seamstress was standing in the corner, covering something with a large sheet. She turned when Brienne entered, and she realized suddenly that she wasn’t a seamstress at all.

Silver hair, purple eyes...it was the fairy who’d cursed Cersei — and Jaime.

“You!” she said, slamming the door behind her. The fairy turned with a wicked smile on her face.

“Lady Brienne,” she said. “I didn’t intend to meet you like this, but I’m charmed.”

“You’re the one — the one who did all of this!” Brienne choked out. The fairy narrowed her eyes.

“People usually call me Daenerys,” she said, still smiling, but it was sharp. “I’m not sure why you’re so upset.” She folded her arms and leaned back against the wall. The fire in the hearth glowed a little brighter.

“I — that is, you — how could you?”

“I locked a bratty little girl in a tower, where she refused to learn her lesson, and then she tricked her kind-hearted brother into staying there for her. Which was unfortunate for Ser Jaime, I’ll admit, but he did get to spend a lot of time with his little brother without Cersei getting involved, so…” She gave a little shrug. Brienne was appalled. Daenerys looked her up and down. “And that’s how he met  _ you.” _

“Me?” Brienne parroted back. “Who cares about me?”

“Who cares? You’re the first knight  _ or _ maiden I’ve heard say they didn’t care about true love.”

Brienne couldn’t move. A million thoughts raced through her head. “What? True love? What?” Daenerys was actually angry now. All at once, she reminded Brienne of Drogon.

_ “He didn’t tell you? _ Jaime Lannister, that little shit, asks me to make you a dress and a suit of armor but he doesn’t tell you he’s your true love!” She pulled the sheet off in the corner to reveal the finest suit of armor Brienne had ever seen. Way too many things were happening at once. 

She spoke slowly. “Jaime...is...my true love.” Danaerys nodded like Brienne was an idiot. 

“That was the curse,” the fairy said, reciting it like it was the most boring thing in the world. “Golden hair and eyes of green, lock the Lannister away, never to be seen. Far away and high above, saved only by their one true love.”

Brienne stumbled to her bed and sat down. She wanted the fairy to leave.

“Did they like the dress at the ball? Why aren’t you still at the ball? I don’t know why I got involved with the Lannisters again.”

“Could you just go?” Brienne asked, trying to hold back her tears. But that’s the thing about fairies — you can’t get anything past them. Daenerys sat on the bed next to her, suddenly more soft than she’d been a moment ago.

“Lady Brienne, I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to be so upset.” Brienne wiped her eyes with the backs of her wrists. 

“It’s just...why wouldn’t he tell me? If he knew? If he loves me, why didn’t he…” She thought of him on the road, getting frustrated when he couldn’t strap the saddle, and in the training yard, hacking at a dummy until his three fingers were sore. She knew why. Daenerys just nodded.

“Be brave,” she said. “And enjoy the armor.” And with a snap of her fingers, she was gone, and nothing but a faint burning smell remained. Outside, it started to pour.

—

Jaime was pacing in his room. He knew the rain last night had kept Brienne from leaving, but it was still too early to go to her. He wasn’t even sure what he could say at this point. Every speech he practiced felt wrong. Jaime was a man of action, not of words.

His anxious revelry was only broken by a knock on the door.

“Enter,” he said. It was Lady Brienne. He couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Good morning, Ser Jaime.” She was calm. She was  _ smiling. _

“Good morning, Lady Brienne.” He tried to keep his voice from shaking. “I was going to find you. I was waiting for a more appropriate hour.”

“Well. I wanted to say —”

“No,” he said. He wanted to go first. “I wanted to say something first. To do something. Will you come with me?” She gave him a strange look, but nodded. He took her hand as they left the room. He led her down one set of stairs, then down another corridor. They were near her own chambers. They stopped outside a door she didn’t recognize. 

“Lady Brienne,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I know you said you don’t want my sister to knight you—”

“I don’t.”

“But any knight can make another knight. And I am still a knight. So…” His voice trailed off. But she hadn’t gotten his meaning yet. He sighed. “If you wish, it would be my honor to knight you before you take your leave.” She took his hand again.

“Yes,” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “Yes. But do you intend to do it in this hallway?” He laughed.

“No! I remembered what you said, about how you wanted it to be. Who you wanted there. So I sent a raven when we first arrived back.”

He knocked on the door, hoping it wasn’t too early for the older man. He’d arrived just yesterday, and Jaime hoped he’d slept restfully.

A moment later, Brienne was in her father’s arms.

—

They did it in the courtyard outside as the sun was rising — Jaime, Brienne, Selwyn and any servants to happened to be walking by, starting their days. Jaime was more nervous than she was — it took effort to keep his left hand from shaking.

_ In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the seven kingdoms. _

She threw her arms around him without thinking.  _ True love,  _ her heart said. 

“Thank you, Jaime,” she said, letting him go. He had a strange look on his face.

“Ser Brienne,” he said, and she loved the sound of that. She turned to her father. 

“Would you mind if Ser Jaime and I spoke for a moment? Then we’ll join you to break our fast.” Lord Selwyn looked surprised, but he obliged. She took Jaime’s arm and led him toward the gardens. They walked in silence for a few moments.

“You wished to speak to me?” Jaime said. “I know you intended to leave today. Will you still?”

“It depends,” she admitted. “I’m feeling very brave today.”

“You’re always brave.”

“Not like this,” she said. She stopped walking and faced him. “What do you want of me, Ser Jaime?” He pouted his lips and squinted.

“What do I want from you?” he parrotted back. She nodded. “Nothing that you wouldn’t give.”

“I would be your sworn shield, if you would have me,” she said, solemnly. She even started to kneel. He grabbed her arm to stop her.

“No,” he choked out. “That’s not what I want. What a waste of your talents that would be.”

“Keeping you safe would not be a waste of my talents,” she said, with a little eye roll. “But that makes you a liar, then. You do want something of me.” He took her arm and led her to keep walking. 

“Brienne,” he said, finding it easier to speak when he didn’t have to look into her face. “I don’t want to be selfish. I want you to be the greatest knight in the seven kingdoms. I want you to save every maiden and stop every war and protect...I don’t know, farmers and merchants and all the smallfolk until they write a million songs about you.” She laughed. “I’m not much of a singer or I would write the first song. Maybe I’ll ask Rhaegar, he does love his harp.”

“I don’t want one of his songs. I don’t want any songs.”

“First lady knight, I don’t think you’ll have a choice.” They stopped under a cherry tree. She faced him again. Despite his japes, there was something fearful in his eyes. Why hadn’t she never seen it before?

“Jaime,” she said, so soft. “I’m a little scared. I don’t know how to be a lady and I don’t know how to be a knight. I don’t know how to be what people want me to be.” He gave a small nod. “But the only time I don’t worry about it is when I’m with you.” His eyes grew wide.

“I think you’re the best person in the whole world,” he said, slowly, carefully. “The best lady and the best knight.” She took both his hands in hers.

“Ser Jaime, I would like to be your lady and your knight. If you would have me.” She closed her eyes then.

“If  _ I _ would have  _ you? _ Look at me.” She did. He was, as always, stupidly handsome in the early morning light. “I’m not the man I was. You have everything ahead of you. I would hold you back.” But he didn’t pull away. She kicked him, lightly.

“I didn’t tell you who I met last night.” He quirked an eyebrow.

“At the ball?”

“In my chambers. Setting up my armor.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,  _ oh. _ It’s lovely, by the way.” But he pulled away from her, then. She wanted him back. 

“You don’t have wed me just because some fairy told you that you have to,” he said, starting to walk away.

“And I hope you don’t intend to put words in my mouth for the rest of our lives.” That made him turn around again. 

“You’re very stubborn,” he said.

“And you like it.”

“I do.” She took a deep breath. She was tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ser Jaime.” She felt the way she had so many moons ago, when she had demanded the queen knight her — she felt strong and sure and right. “I loved you well before some fairy told me I did. At first I thought you didn’t tell me the whole curse because you didn’t want me—”

“Never,” he interrupted, wrapping his fingers around her arms. “I was afraid.”

“I realized.”

“But our last day on the road, I was going to ask for your hand. I had a whole plan. It was going to be very romantic. I thought you might pity me and consider it.” He gripped her tighter. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Why not?” she asked. She knew the answer, but she wanted him to say it.

“Because I love you,” he said, his voice shaking just a little. “I don’t need some fairy’s curse to tell me that. I loved you when you took care of my hand. I loved you the first time we sparred. I loved you when you laughed at me because I couldn’t ride side saddle.” She laughed, pressing their foreheads together. 

“Ser Jaime?”

“Yes, Ser Brienne?” He put his hands on her waist. 

“I’m going to kiss you now.” She leaned in less than an inch before he met her in the middle.

She felt like she was soaring. Yes, this was exactly how things were supposed to be. Brienne and Jaime. Two knights. She lifted her hands to his face and he put his on her waist. They were so eager, they bumped noses, sparking a fit of giggling, until Jaime kissed her again. But she pulled away first.

“Marry me,” she whispered. 

“I thought you’d only marry a man who could beat you in a fight.”

“Jaime —”

“Oh no,” he said. “It’s a fight I intend to win.”

“I didn’t know what I was saying,” she explained, taking his hands again. “Now I know there are other types of strength.” He kissed her softly, more of a promise than anything else.

“Of course I’ll marry you. And then we’ll go on adventures together until we get tired, and then we can go live at the Rock. Or on Tarth. Or the North, for all I care. Wherever you are is where I’ll be.”

They kissed again, languorous and slow, two lovers with all the time in the world. They quite forgot about their promise to break their fast with her father.

Thankfully, he found them, with a woman Brienne didn’t recognize on his arm. 

“Brienne?” They sprang apart. 

“Father,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “We were just coming to find you. We, err —”

Thankfully, the lady took over. 

“Lady Brienne? My name is Lady Catelyn Stark.”

“She’s Ser Brienne now,” Jaime said. Brienne squeezed his hand a bit too hard.

“Your father helped me find you. I’ve heard you’re the bravest knight in the realm,” Lady Stark continued. “And that you’ve a talent for saving people from towers.” She nodded toward Jaime.

“It’s true,” he said, before Brienne could deny her talents.

“My two daughters have been trapped in a tower in the Vale. I thought about sending a male knight, but I thought they’d try to marry one of them instead of returning them to me untouched. I thought a lady knight would be safer.” Brienne nodded.

“It would be my honor, Lady Stark, to rescue your daughters.” She bowed deeply. Lady Stark nodded, blinking back tears. 

“Two girls sounds like a lot of work for one knight, Lady Stark,” Jaime said. “I think I’ll have to accompany Ser Brienne on her quest.” Catelyn shot him a dirty look.

“Ser, did you not just hear me say I don’t wish for men and their ill-intentions to get involved?” Brienne held back a laugh at Jaime’s wounded look.

“Lady Stark,” Brienne said, trying to sound serious. “Ser Jaime has lately agreed to marry me. He would be no threat to your daughters, I swear it.” The lady looked unconvinced.

“If you wed before you leave, he may accompany you.”

Jaime looked at Brienne. Brienne looked at Jaime.

“I know where the septon’s quarters are.”

“And my father is already here.” Lord Selwyn’s smile told her that he was not at all surprised by this turn of events.

“It’ll probably take an hour to get Tyrion awake and dressed.”

The next morning, Sers Brienne and Jaime Lannister of Tarth left King’s Landing to save Sansa and Arya Stark from a tower in the Vale. And by the time they’d gotten the girls back to their family at Winterfell, Arya was determined to become the second lady knight of the seven kingdoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thanks for reading and kudos-ing and commenting. i feel very meh about how this turned out right now, but hopefully it brings ya a little bit of joy
> 
> EDITED TO ASK: can people stop leaving negative comments on this? I know I said I thought it was meh but honestly it’s fine and people saying mean things makes me want to delete it. Ok goodbye


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